Several Dead Legos Play Cards
by Candaru
Summary: Doctor Julien never had company when he was alive. So of course after he's dead, an edgy teenage boy and a former evil overlord show up on his doorstep needing directions. Set in the Departed Realm directly after Curse World Pt.2 (before Day of the Departed). Slice-of-Afterlife fic. Rated T for everyone literally being dead. (Update: Minor romance warning for chapters 15 and on.)
1. Several Dead Legos

It seems like I never had company when I was alive. I lived the majority of my younger years alone in the woods— alone, at least, until I brought my son to life. But only a few years after that, I sent him off alone and without memory so he would not have to witness my dying day. Of course, it was just my luck that an evil skeleton and a cup of Yesterday's Tea would drag my life onward for another long stretch of isolation, this time locked in a tower and forced to create weapons for an evil army. True, there was a brief time after that when my son returned with his friends and rescued me, and the years that followed were the happiest years of my life. But they weren't the longest. The effects of the Yesterday's Tea only lasted so long, and most of that time had been wasted in captivity. In short, I was more than used to being alone.

So of course, after my death I never expected company. And I certainly never expected for the former boss of my skeleton captor and an angsty teenage boy to show up on my doorstep needing a place to crash for the night.

I suppose I should back up a little bit. My name is Doctor Julien, and I am 95 years old. I died when I was 90 from old age, surrounded by a group of people who deeply cared for and loved me. Not really a bad way to go. Still, I wish I had been able to spend more time with them, specifically with my son, Zane. It was him who gave me joy in my lifetime in Ninjago, and it was him who filled most of the picture frames on my walls, which I was cleaning off only recently with a duster. Not that anything in the Departed Realm really _needs_ to be cleaned, of course, but it was a way to pass the time. I'd rather have been inventing, but there was little inspiration to invent. The dead have very few needs, and though I had received a few inquiries on whether or not I could make a device to let our spirits travel back to our home realms, I absolutely refused to tamper with the laws of death. Creating life is one thing— even animals have the knowledge on how to do so— but reversing death is another thing entirely.

Where was I again? Right— I was cleaning off the picture frames that held the fondest memories from my life, and pondering to myself whether I should try to make conversation with my neighbors later on. If I was going to be stuck here for the rest of eternity, I didn't really want to spend it all cooped up alone like I was during my lifetime.

* _Ding dong!*_

My first thought was: someone had rung my doorbell? Why? I could entertain the thought of visiting my neighbors, but I was anxious as to why any of _them_ would first come to _me._ My second thought was: wait, I had a doorbell?

 _*Ding dong, ding dong!*_

"Morro!" I heard a voice behind the door reprimand. Nervous but admittedly curious, I came to the door and creaked it open, peeking out to see who was so anxious to see me.

There stood, in front of me, an old man with gray hair wearing what looked to be either undergarments or a _very_ casual outfit; and a little closer to the doorbell, a much shorter teenage boy, with jet black hair save for one streak, which was died bright green. I blinked a couple of times at the odd pair: they didn't look like they belonged together, and they certainly didn't look like they belonged _here._ The boy was much too young, and the older man… wait a moment, I recognized the older man!

"Garmadon?" I asked, my face crinkling into a smile. The man boasted such a powerful sense of dignity and authority, yet such an air of contentment, that I could hardly recognize him. (Besides, I hadn't gotten to spend much time with him in my waking life in the first place.)

"Doctor Julien!" he responded, his face brightening up considerably. "I'm so sorry for not recognizing you! It's been so long…"

"Ah, that's fine. I hardly recognized you, either." My face boasted a smile— until it suddenly struck me where we were. My eyes darkened.

"Where's my boy?"

"Ah, he's fine, don't you worry," he smiled. "You don't need to worry about seeing him anytime soon. All the ninja are as strong as I've ever seen them— my brother included." The boy next to him said something under his breath, earning himself a whack on the head with a rolled-up piece of paper.

"May I ask what that paper is?" I asked, although I had an idea.

"It's the address of our new residences, which we've been trying to find for hours. Do you know the directions to Sector D?"

"Yes, actually, you're in Sector D," I said, remembering getting lost myself the first time I'd tried to find my home in the Departed Realm.

"Great, we need to find houses 244 and 245," said the younger boy. His voice was much rougher than I'd expected, and I couldn't truthfully tell whether or not he was being sarcastic. The older man whacked him again with the paper.

"Manners, Morro." Then, to me— "If you would _please_ help us find the right direction to go, that would be much appreciated."

"Oh, erm… that may be difficult. Last I heard, the residences above 200 hadn't been built yet," I said apologetically. Garmadon looked confused, but "Morro" merely wrinkled his nose.

"Seriously? They forcibly take away my house, and then when they tell me I'll get a new one, I have to _wait?"_ He frowned, seeming a little more genuinely upset than he had before. "Homeless in one life, homeless for the rest…"

"May I ask why unfinished housing is a problem in the afterlife?" Garmadon asked, to me or the boy I could not tell.

I shrugged meekly. "It's best not to question the laws of life and death. They really don't make any sense." I paused, and then hesitantly asked— "Would you like to stay here until your houses are finished? My house isn't very big, but—"

"Would we!" cried Morro, before the older man could stop him. He brushed past me eagerly and went inside. The man shook his head and leaned against the wall, frustrated.

"I apologize for the boy," he said, "he's still learning his manners. He was only redeemed in the last few moments before his death, so…" his voice trailed off. I felt my expression soften somewhat, and I reassured him that it was all right.

"Hey, Sensei, there are pictures of your brother in here!" I heard from inside my house. I raised my eyebrows at Garmadon.

"Sensei? You'd better come in. We have a lot of catching up to do."


	2. Cards

"…so that's when I decided I was wrong or whatever, so I gave Wu the crystal and let myself go. Or whatever." Morro, Garmadon, and I were sitting at my kitchen table. A red deck of cards was split among us. The youngest had his feet up on the table and was trying to look relaxed, but summarizing his entire life story in front of a stranger and a man whose death he'd directly caused of was clearly taking a toll on him.

"I see," I said calmly, trying to put the boy at ease. I glanced down at my cards and tapped my chin thoughtfully. "I put down a pair of threes." I slid my cards facedown into the middle of the table.

"Very well. I put down a pair of aces," said Garmadon, following suit. Morro raised an eyebrow, and a small smirk spread across his face.

"All the aces were already put down this round. I call Cheat," he said, and grinned proudly to himself as Garmadon flipped over the cards to reveal that they were, in fact, a 5 and a 6.

"So they were. All right, you caught me." He put them and several cards from the deck back into his hand, as were the rules. I could tell that he knew full well he knew he was going to get caught, but was trying to give the boy a distraction. I appreciated how kindly he treated him, especially considering the circumstances.

"So, since you've only got one bed and one couch," Morro said, looking at his own cards, "what's the sleeping situation?"

"If you're still okay with us 'crashing your party,' as the kids say," Garmadon amended.

"Of course! I hardly ever get company. This is a nice surprise: I'm sure we'll find a way to fit both of you," I said, pausing the game to retrieve a platter of cookies from the counter. I set them down on the table. "Help yourselves."

Morro's eyes widened at the sight. "Thanks," he said, grabbing a large handful.

"Thank you for the offer, but I'll pass," Garmadon said, smiling and patting his stomach.

"Oh, don't worry about eating too much," I said, taking a cookie for myself. "You can't shift your appearance in any way here, meaning you can't gain weight. Also, a friendly tip— ghost hunger is unquenchable. You might want to learn to accept free food." My companion looked a little startled at the statement, despite my upbeat tone of voice.

"Who'f turn if' it?" Morro asked with his mouth full.

"Yours," replied Garmadon, glancing back at the plate of cookies undecidedly.

"Alright, I put down three 5s," Morro said, with such conviction in his voice that neither of us dared to challenge the truth of his statement. I resolved to teach the lad a card game other than Cheat next time so I might actually have a shot at winning.

"Hey," he said, already having scarfed down his first several cookies and reaching for another one, "You never told us about _your_ life story. I mean, Sensei already knows it, but—"

"Actually," Garmadon cut in, "I may know Doctor Julien, but I know very little _about_ him. The time we spent together was far too brief."

I smiled and readjusted my glasses nervously (a motion of habit, I'd noticed, when I received compliments, which wasn't often). "Well, I'm flattered. I don't think there's very many interesting things about my life to tell… unless you like mechanics." I laughed a little. "I could probably quote the entire _Mandatory Manual for Cognitive Machines_ by Brick Nye, if I wanted to." I felt a subtle twang of regret for spending so many years buried in books— even if they _were_ good books.

"Well, you built yourself a ninja son, surely there's a good story in that," Morro argued. He wiped his hands on his ripped shorts— done eating for the moment, apparently— and ran his fingers through his messy hair, brushing out the crumbs. I noticed that he had perpetual dark circles under his eyes, as if suffering from a lack of sleep, and felt sorry for him when I realized he must have looked like that at the time of dying in order to display such features now.

"Yes, tell us about Zane," Garmadon prodded, giving in and taking a cookie off the platter. "Why did you build him? And why make him a ninja?"

I tapped my fingers on the table, and then suddenly slid four red cards into the middle of the table. "These are four 7s. Anyone care to challenge my statement?"

Morro raised his eyebrows slightly, impressed. He and Garmadon looked at each other, and then shook their heads. I smiled.

"All right, then. Here's the story of how Zane was built. You might want to settle down, as it's a long one…"


	3. A Dimly-Lit Discussion

"For the last time, you are _not_ sleeping on the floor," I sighed, rubbing my temples. As much as I appreciated Garmadon's good will, the debate over who would sleep where had been raging on for far too long, and I sincerely wished it to be over.

"Well, I'm not sleeping on the floor, either," Morro cut in defensively.

"Are you implying that we kick our _host_ out of his own—"

"Of course not, I'm just making sure that _I_ don't have to—"

"Boys, please," I sighed in exasperation. It occurred to me as an afterthought that calling Garmadon "boy" may have been offensive, but it wasn't my intent. "Nobody has to sleep on the floor. The bed is easily big enough for two people." The quarrel in front of me quieted.

"Oh," Garmadon said, somewhat awkwardly. "My apologies. I wasn't sure if—"

"Well, fine, then I call the couch," Morro said quickly. "I don't want to share a bed with either of you old geezers."

"Hey now, careful who you're calling old," Garmadon said, whacking the teen with the piece of paper I'm pretty sure he now only carried around for such a purpose. Morro flinched and then fled the room to claim the couch as his own.

I let out a sigh of relief, happy the argument was finally over, and went to close the windows by the bedside. The view outside was dark and stormy, and I had no intention of waking up to droplets of pain stinging my cheek.

I turned around, hearing Garmadon sighing heavily behind me. "I'm sorry for Morro," he apologized, although he'd already done so several times. "I hadn't planned on burdening you with him, but…"

"Please, don't apologize," I said, taking off my white lab coat and shrugging my shoulders in the (much more comfortable) shirt and leggings underneath. "I'm actually quite glad to have an opportunity to help out in the afterlife, given how much I messed things up in my first life…" I looked down, flashbacks of my time spent creating weaponry overtaking me. Before I could fall into any sort of pity trap for myself, however, Garmadon snapped me out of my thoughts.

"Believe me, I know exactly how you feel. I highly doubt I'd be in any mood to help that excuse of a man unless I knew I weren't equally as responsible for causing at least as much trouble in my lifetime." He glanced around the room briefly, looking for something. "Er… is there a washroom here?"

"Your body doesn't physically change here, so that isn't necessary," I reminded him. "Also, any sort of water indoors would be a horrible idea. But as for your first statement, are you not excused for your actions as Lord Garmadon? You were under the influence of a terrible venom, if I recall. And surely your days as Sensei provided as much light as any darkness you may have caused prior."

To this, Garmadon took to a long inner dialogue of which I could somewhat guess the contents of, having been through similar such conversations myself while in captivity. Finally, he spoke up.

"It's true that I was not at fault for the venom of the Great Devourer… and while I am grateful for all the time I was able to spend promoting peace and self-defense," he started slowly, "I do not believe that is enough. In fact, I don't think I will ever be so much at peace with myself that I will be fully capable of simply stopping the struggle to do what is right." He paused, and then laughed at himself a little. "But I suppose that this situation also gives me more of a chance to teach that little punk a lesson, so it evens out."

I chuckled softly. "Indeed. Morro is quite the character… To be honest, I'm surprised you don't hold more resentment for his behavior towards your son." I stopped myself from saying more, hoping I hadn't suddenly opened up a bad topic. However, Garmadon just shook his head.

"He got what he deserved… and, to tell you the truth—" here he lowered his voice— "when we first arrived here, the first thing he did was actually to find me and apologize, which makes me think there's still something redeemable in him. I wasn't going to help him, but then I remembered that if my son hadn't tried so hard to salvage what little good was left in me… well, I'd be a goner." He stood up straighter and lightened his tone a bit. "Besides, he was raised solely by my brother for most of his years, so no-one can really argue that he had the best parenting."

That last remark surprised me. From what I knew of Garmadon, he was rather fond of his brother, and seemed to hold him in high esteem. Taking my chances and a blanket from the bed, I asked:

"Isn't your brother responsible for raising most of the other ninja? I happen to know that my Zane was in his care since the day Wu found him."

"Oh, of course," he replied, waving off my question, "My brother is very open-hearted, and I'm indebted to him for taking in my son, and the other ninja… albeit, with an odd sense of timing." He coughed. "Nonetheless, I wouldn't give him credit for exactly _raising_ any of them. Teaching them skills and spinjitzu, perhaps… but raising a child is something I'm afraid he was never quite prepared for."

I climbed into my bed, the blanket wrapped around me no longer sufficient to keep the chill off my old bones (metaphorically speaking). I motioned that it was all right for Garmadon to occupy the empty space next to me, although he seemed noticeably less disturbed by the temperature.

"I must admit, your stance piques my curiosity," I said. "What makes you say that Wu had no part in raising the ninja?"

The old man shifted into a more comfortable position, giving the question some thought. "Well, raising a child is more than just feeding them and providing them with clothes. Even as Lord Garmadon, I could've done that. But raising a child involves care, kindness, and compassion. It's about teaching them morals— right from wrong, shades of gray, and how to see things from other viewpoints. It's not just teaching them the skills they'll need to survive in the world, it's about teaching them how to use those skills to make it better."

"I'm quite impressed with your definition," I stated truthfully. "But Zane and Jay aside, the other ninja had very little time with an actual parent to raise them, and I'd say they all exhibit the qualities you're describing. In fact, I'd go so far as to say I'm proud of every one of them— the people they've become."

"I agree," concurred Garmadon, smiling.

"Then there must have been _some_ parenting involved, don't you think? If Wu truly taught them nothing but Spinjitzu…"

"That's where you're making an assumption. The ninja had a good upbringing, but I think very little of that can be credited to my brother." He smiled. "Wu did not raise the ninja. The ninja raised each other."

I lied in the dark silence for a while, pondering the claim. From the time I'd spent with Wu, I knew him to be a very kind and usually wise man. However, the more I tried to rebuke Garmadon's statement in my head, the more I realized that, finding no fallacy in his argument, he must have known his brother better than I had.

Finally, I broke the silence. "Well, I'd like to argue your point, but… heh… it seems I can't find any good arguments!"

I could no longer see his face, but I knew Garmadon was smiling. A little competitive streak had never left him all these years— he still liked to win.

"But my question now, is," I continued, "at what point does a child lose the ability to be raised in such a manner as you've described?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well… say a child grows up receiving no proper parenting or care in the way that you've just described to me. Thus, they grow bitter or angry or cold or impulsive, and reject all forms of authority. At what point do you think it's too late to try and save them?"

There was a heavy pause in the conversation, as it became clear to both of us who the discussion was really about. A quiet pitter-patter washed away the silence as small drops of rain began to fall on the roof outside. Garmadon spoke softly.

"I don't truthfully know when it's too late. All I can hope is, not yet."

—

(A/N: Woops, I guess I'm continuing this fic... how much more will I write? Who knows. Maybe one chapter. Maybe 20. Either way, I hope you guys enjoy it! I've gotten a few comments that I love but also make me nervous about how you guys will feel about future chapters, but I have to remind myself that I can't please everyone "^^ I'm also nervous about the fact that SDLPC is now a published unfinished work, but... oh well, we'll see how far I can go with this. X'D)


	4. Breakfast

I awoke to the smell of bacon. It was going to be a good day.

I blinked several times, adjusting to the bright light trying to push past the cracks in the window blinds. One of the greatest advantages of being dead is the freedom to wake up every morning whenever you want. Well, sure everyone has a season of work— mine's a year out of every five— but still, after waking up five days out of every week to a blaring alarm clock and angry sea monster, any other sort of morning is luxurious by comparison.

After lying in the soft (noticeably empty) bed for a few minutes more, my nose led me out of my room and into the kitchen. Eager to get to the source of the tantalizing scent, I didn't bother taking the time to put my lab coat back on. I really only wore it out of habit, anyhow: I had yet to find any inspiration for something to invent, and I hadn't even touched the science equipment in the closet.

As I meandered into the kitchen, my roommate, standing at the stove, came into sight. I studied him as he shifted two pans on the stove. He looked up at me.

"Ah, good morning, Dr. Julien. Hope I didn't wake you up."

"You did, and I sure am glad: I want a piece of that before it's all gobbled up," I said teasingly, pointing a finger to the sizzling food. After a moment's pause, I added, "Also, you _might_ want to consider buying a few more garments than that. I'm not so sure the title of 'Sensei' is enough to uphold a professional reputation."

Garmadon looked down at his attire (or really, lack thereof). "I thought you said you couldn't change physical appearances in the Departed Realm!?"

I raised my eyebrows and motioned down to my t-shirt and leggings. He coughed.

"Right… clothes don't count, then. Got it. Where do you go to get clothes in this place, anyway?"

Before I could answer his question, the sound of footsteps and a _thump_ woke me up. I turned to see Morro in the doorway, holding his hand to his head, which he had presumably just hit on the wall. I felt badly about it, but I actually had to try not to laugh. He just looked so unconcerned about everything. The boy rubbed his eyes, as if trying to wipe away the dark, sleepless markings underneath them.

"Morro!" Garmadon exclaimed, sounding surprised. "I thought you said you weren't a morning person?"

"I'm not," he said, sounding half drunk and half sleep-deprived. "I'm a _mourning_ person— with a U." He paused, then cracked a crooked smirk and pointed finger guns at us. "Also, the smell of bacon and eggs woke me up. Gimme."

Garmadon and I exchanged surprised glances while the teenager sleepily walked over to the table and sat down at one of the setups that the Sensei had so generously arranged.

"Does he always make puns?" I mouthed to my companion. I doubted he understood the exact words I used, but his shrug confirmed that this was new for him, as well. I decided it was possible that sleep deprivation affected Morro more quickly than it did for other people— in which case I was going to have a lot of fun with him in the early mornings.

"Do you want one piece of bacon with your eggs, or two?" Garmadon asked, flipping the fresh breakfast onto several plates next to him. A toaster next to him dinged.

"Five," replied Morro, without missing a beat. He folded his arms on the table and let his head fall into them, as a ninja in a boring lecture about Ninjago history might. (Or so Zane had told me— of course, _my_ boy had always been alert and attentive.)

"I'll have two, please," I said. Garmadon divided the food up so each of our plates had a serving of scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and two pieces of bacon. I made a mental note to let my roommate do the cooking whenever possible. While I loved good food, my son certainly didn't get any of his culinary talent from _me._

"Food's ready," Garmadon said while placing the delicious-looking dishes on the table, waking Morro out of his half-slumber. The sleepy boy looked up and mumbled something about not enough bacon, but started to eat with a ravenous appetite.

"Are you all right, Morro?" I asked. "You look dead inside."

He looked up at me with a glare that could kill a man, if he weren't already dead. "Hey, morbid jokes are _my_ thing, Doctor Frankenstein."

I chuckled at the nickname and dug into my breakfast while Garmadon angrily reprimanded the boy. I could only remember one time when I had enjoyed such a magnificent meal so early in the day, and that was back in Ninjago with my son.

"It seems that your cooking skills are on par with your fighting skills!" I exclaimed, drawing the Sensei away from his lecture to Morro about manners.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," he said, still a little gruff about Morro. "Fighting can't be the _only_ thing someone is good at, or all they'll do is get themselves into fights."

I'm not even sure he'd intended the remark to be directed at the black-haired boy, but the Master of Wind quickly grew defensive.

"Hey, I'm better at stuff other than fighting!"

"What stuff?" asked Garmadon.

"Lots of stuff," the boy huffed quickly.

"Name something."

"I'm good at…" the boy trailed off and furrowed his brow, trying to come up with something. He remembered something and snapped his fingers proudly. "Kite-flying. I'm very good at flying kites."

"Well now, that's kind of cheating, considering you're the master of—"

"Really?" I asked, with fake disbelief in my voice. I'd suddenly gotten an idea.

"Oh, yea," Morro bragged. "When I was little, Sensei Wu gave me a kite and I started flying it around without any string. I was so good at it, that it convinced him I could be the green ninja." He seemed legitimately proud of his kite-flying skills.

"Hm. I'm not sure I can believe that," I said, shoving another forkful of eggs into my mouth to cover up a smile.

"What? I'm the best kite-flyer around! Do _you_ even know _how_ to fly a kite?"

Actually, I'd spent a good few years flying kites with Zane when he was still a little kid. It was one of the first things I taught him how to do.

"Oh, I've had some experience," I replied.

"Well, I bet I'm better than you," Morro boasted. I grinned in response.

"I was hoping you'd say that," I said, a little mischievously. "It just so happens that I've got a few spare kites in the closet. I can fetch them after breakfast."

Morro's face contorted into a confident smile. "Fine. You and me. At the park. Five o' clock. I need to practice my wind skills first."

Garmadon looked up, distracted. "We have a park?"

"It's on," I replied to the feisty teenager, feeling something that loosely resembled the giddy confidence of youth. "At five o' clock."

The smiling teen reached his arm across the table and extended his hand to me. I was confused for a moment, and then reached out and shook it firmly. It was a promise to a challenge. A battle. A duel.

With kites.

—

(A/N: First off, just in case anyone was confused, no, Garmadon is NOT naked. XD And if anyone didn't catch why he's so underdressed in the first place: shortly after the last time we saw him, Lloyd was wearing his robes. And since I'm not sure Lloyd's smol green ninja suit fits his dad… I wondered… what exactly was Garmadon wearing? XP Anyway, the part where Dr. Julien talks about the breakfast with Zane may or may not be a reference to Dear Dad, one of my favorite fanfictions by Order of the Aether [a fantastic writer who has more tenacity and probably more talent than me whom you should all go check out right now]. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! More to come soon, hopefully ^^)


	5. New Attire

"Are you sure about this?"

I half-glared at my roommate, who walked with me through the front doors of a store boasting the sign _Departed Fashions_ (an unfortunate name choice in my opinion).

"If you ask me if I'm sure about something," I pointed out, "then I'll have to respond that it'll be fine, and _then_ it most definitely _won't_ be fine. I'd think you of all people would know that." I hoped I hadn't offended him, but it was better for him in the long run if he learned now that the rule of "what could go wrong" still applied in the afterlife.

Garmadon pondered my claim. "Hm… you have a good point." He fidgeted slightly with my white lab coat, which he currently donned. "I'm not sure how easy it will be to find a gi in this place. It's enormous."

I looked around the store, which was indeed closer to the size of a strip mall than a simple clothing shop.

An attendant dressed in a worker's uniform spotted and came over to us, and as she approached closer her face grew horrified at our attire. I didn't think my simple t-shirt and leggings were _that_ bad.

"Hello, sirs" she said, studying us carefully. "What can I do for you?"

"This is Sensei Garmadon," I said, after noticing that the customer himself seemed too uncomfortable to talk (which was not unusual for newcomers to the Departed Realm, but still surprising considering his character). "He's looking for a suitable gi."

"Ahh," the worker said, visibly relieved. "So he's a newcomer. Welcome to the Departed Realm!" She held out her hand politely, which Garmadon shook. Then she asked somewhat teasingly, "Die in your sleep?" which was a term meaning that someone had unfortunate taste in clothing or hairstyle, but was in this case also a legitimate question. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Um, no, I gave my robes to my son before I passed away. And I didn't exactly have time to run out for a new outfit before being drowned alive in the Preeminant," he said gravely.

There was an awkward silence. The worker shifted uncomfortably. "Oh," she said. "I'm sorry to hear that. Um, our gi department is up ahead." She started leading us through the store, staying a good distance in front of us.

I glanced over at Garmadon's disgruntled face and decided to leave him be. The attendant had only been trying to make small talk, but I could understand his still being a bit shaken from the circumstances of his death. Not every father has to watch his own son sacrifice him for the good of the world… three times.

"We're here," she said after a time, motioning to a large section of racks boasting gis of different colors. "Ask me or another worker if you need anything." She then hurried away at a pace that suggested she'd prefer the latter.

Garmadon started looking through the racks, which were organized by color and size. Personally, I never understood fashion, but he seemed to know what he was doing. He browsed silently for a bit and then took a black-and-gold gi off the rack.

"There. This is pretty similar to what I wore back in Ninjago," he said, satisfied. "Is there a fitting room somewhere here, or…?"

I glanced around the store. "I'm… not quite sure," I admitted. "I've never actually been to this store until now. I guess I never had a reason to come."

"Well, those who don't seek, never find," he said casually, taking a pair of leggings from a 'complimentary items' display. "Let's look around and see if we can find one."

We started walking through the store together, with Garmadon occasionally commenting on the other fashions being sold. Most of his comments were "Is _that_ what kids wear these days?" or some variant of "I see that proper dress-wear has a different meaning in the afterlife," but it still made me happy to listen to him. I was particularly pleased when he started making guesses as to which outfits the ninja would pick out if they were with us, although I'll admit I wasn't much help in confirming or denying his estimates.

Finally, we found a station of fitting rooms; we went inside and Garmadon handed me back my lab coat, which I slipped back on gratefully.

"That was an interesting debate you had with Morro this morning," he commented while trying on the gi. I laughed.

"Oh, yes. That boy is rather entertaining, especially considering how hard he tries to be… what was that word Kai taught me… 'edgy.'" I finished buttoning up my coat and looked over at my roommate, who had finished trying on the outfit. It suited him, and did look like something he would have worn during his lifetime (minus the logo for _Departed Fashions_ on the sash). Suddenly, he frowned.

"Wait," he said, "I didn't bring any money. I'm sorry, I'll have to pay you—"

I laughed and waved his comment off. "Oh, don't worry about it. They'll deduct it from your credit at the front. I'd offer you some of mine, since I never use any of it, but it's non-transferrable, so…"

Garmadon raised an eyebrow at me. "Credit?"

"Oh, that's right, you never got a proper tour of the place, did you?" I asked. "Well, I'll try my best to fill you in, then." We started walking back to the front of the store while I talked (and it was a good thing we did, because it took us a while to find).

"Everyone in the Departed Realm starts out with a year to adjust," I began. "During that period, you're given an amount of free credit to help you get back any commodities you might have died without, such as clothing. You can also buy things to decorate your living quarters, if that appeals to you."

"You spent much of your credit on photographs, I assume," Garmadon said with a smile.

"Ah, yes— although mine are a special kind of photograph that can capture any moment from your life, whether that moment was actually caught on camera or not. But, I digress. After your one year to adjust, you're assigned a working period by the Departed Officials, who show up at your pad without warning and usually early in the morning." I coughed. "Anyhow, the D.O. tell you what your work shift is, which can range anywhere from a year in every 50 to 50 for every free year."

"Yikes," said Garmadon with a whistle. "How are the shifts decided?"

"Mostly on your actions during your lifetime," I said. "My shift is a year out of every five."

"Really? I'm surprised it's not shorter," he said. "For one, you built the ninja of ice, without whom Ninjago would have perished many times over by now."

"True, but you forget my many years spent crafting warfare for Samukai. Anyhow, I'm perfectly content with my situation."

"Fair enough. How about Morro?" he asked.

"Well, he's… different," I said after hesitation. "He died twice, so this is his second adjustment period. I don't know what his work schedule is, but I'm guessing that it's longer than mine."

"Ah," Garmadon said, furrowing his brow. "Well, serves the little rascal right… ah, there's the checkout!" We proceeded to the checkout area (the workers there let him keep the purchased clothes on— they were probably used to similar situations by now—) and headed out the door.

"Well, that took longer than I'm used to for simply buying an outfit," Garmadon said, glancing at a clock on the way out. "It's already 4:35."

4:35? I jerked my head up, checking his statement. "Oh dear," I said, hurrying my pace. "We'd better get going! We're supposed to be at the park at 5:00!"

"We?" asked Garmadon. "I'm not the one dramatically comparing kite-flying skills."

"Well, I guess I assumed you'd want to watch…" I started, then smiled. "But now that you've said that, yes, you are. You're competing now. Let's go."

Before he could say anything in protest, I grabbed his wrist, grinning to myself as I tugged him along to the fated kite duel.

—

(A/N: I feel like this is one of my weaker chapters, despite being relatively long... eh... sorry "^^ Hope you enjoy anyway '^^)


	6. Kite Duel

My joints were _killing_ me. And that was saying something, considering the circumstances. As Garmadon and I entered the large gate to the park, we both stopped to catch our breath, although I was ready to collapse and my companion seemed mildly winded at worst.

"FINALLY! GET OVER HERE, YOU OLD GEEZERS!"

I glanced around for the familiar voice, but the green-clad teenager was nowhere in sight. Then I noticed that the other park-goers were all glancing upward with awestruck faces. With a vague realization of what I was about to see, I looked into the sky to see the expected Master of Wind soaring through the air, using a huge kite as a makeshift hang-glider. Once he saw me notice him, he swooped down for a landing, causing a couple gasps from the other onlookers.

"You're late," he said, but his smirk gave him away: he'd been all too glad for the opportunity of a dramatic entrance.

"Sorry. We had to head back to the house to fetch our kites," I said, glancing over at Garmadon. He was giving the stink-eye to the others in the park who were still staring at us (although they all quickly looked away once his glare made contact).

" _Our_ kites?" Morro asked, cocking his head to the side. "I thought Sensei G—"

Garmadon's death stare fixed itself on Morro, preventing him from making an offensive pun on his name.

"I thought Sensei wasn't part of the competition."

The gray-haired man looked down at the kites he'd been carrying. "I wasn't going to be. Doctor Julien decided it was _completely_ necessary for me to join your little contest," he said, with a twinge of sarcasm in his voice.

"Well, nobody beats me in kite-flying— _nobody._ So don't expect to win," Morro scoffed.

"I don't," said Garmdon, handing me a yellow dragon-shaped kite to untangle. "I've never flown a kite before. I don't even know how."

"What?!" Morro and I exclaimed simultaneously (causing an awkward pause for several seconds thereafter).

"How come you didn't tell me?" I continued.

"I tried to, but you didn't really let me finish," Garmadon said. "You talked the whole trip about the mechanics of kites and the wind."

"Oh. Well." I coughed. "Sorry about that."

"Well, fine. Let me and the Doc finish this first, and then I'll teach you," Morro said casually, preparing his kite. Garmadon and I exchanged a look of surprise. It wasn't normal of him to offer things like that, right?

"Um… I'm not so sure an old soul like myself is up to learning—" Garmadon started, but Morro cut him off.

"Back out now, old man, and you lose the privilege of learning from the kite-flying MASTER. Be thankful that I was hungry this morning and that I'm in a good mood today," he scoffed. It looked like Garmadon was going to say something else, but I motioned for him to be silent.

"You aren't the master _yet,"_ I reminded him. "We haven't started the competition."

"I'm already the Master of Wind, I think I can already safely claim the title of the Master of Kites." Suddenly, he turned to the surrounding ghosts in the park and raised his voice— okay, yelled— at the startled folk.

"Clear some space!" he shouted, probably not intentionally trying to sound harsh, but overachieving his goal of clearing the others away. A few curious children glanced backwards as their parents dragged them off, which I was thankful for. As an inventor, I knew that all the parts of any invention needed to be fully functioning before the thing as a whole could accomplish its purpose— and I was pretty certain that the secret invention I was working on required a crowd in order to work. (Well, it was more of a project than an invention, but 'same difference,' as my teenage companion said.)

"So how exactly does this little contest of yours work, anyway?" asked Garmadon. I was a bit surprised he hadn't commented on Morro's… unnecessarily high volume, but then I remembered that in life, that had always been a vice of the Sensei's, as well. I checked the string on my kite while Morro started explaining the rules that he seemingly just made up.

"Simple. When kite-flying, there are three main goals: to get your kite the highest you can, while staying in the air as long as you can, and to make it look as cool as you can," he explained. I still found it amusing— though not in a degrading way— how seriously he took the matter.

"I don't think 'looking cool' is a very reliable standard of measurement. After all, beauty is in the eye of the beholder," Garmadon said, evoking an eye-roll from Morro.

"We ain't talking about _beauty,_ Gramps," Morro started, continuing quickly so that the insulted party didn't have time to argue the comment about his age. "We're talking _coolness._ Totally different things. Beauty might be in the eye of the beholder, but coolness is a very reliable standard of measurement… one that _you_ don't understand, apparently."

"Now, now, leave him be," I said, choosing my tone carefully so I didn't upset either party. "Understanding how to be cool isn't really in the job description of a Sensei, now is it?"

Morro considered my comment, then gave a half-smirk— apparently my explanation was good enough to quiet his remarks— and lifted his kite behind his back.

"On my mark, start running," he instructed. "Catch as much wind as you need to get your kite at least twice as high as that tree." He pointed to the tallest tree in the vicinity (which was only slightly-taller-than-average, really), and I was suddenly very glad that our location was not the center of the park, where the Central Willow was located.

"You earn points by doing tricks— loop-de-loops and shapes and stuff like that— and your kite can't hit the ground or you're out. The first person to a hundred points wins." He flipped back his hair proudly, as if he'd just come up with a new, foolproof government system that was going to bring world peace.

"And who, exactly, will award the points?" Garmadon grunted. I noticed he seemed a little extra jaded, perhaps because of Morro's current conduct. "It obviously wouldn't be very wise for you _or_ Doctor Julien to hand them out."

"Um— just Julien is fine—" I started, before Morro cut me off.

"There are other ghosts here. We'll just have them do it," he said. I winced a little, knowing I wasn't going to be able to stop what came next.

"HEY, STALKERS!" Morro shouted, presumably to the one or two people who had been watching our discussion from afar, "WE NEED JUDGES FOR OUR KITE-FLYING CONTEST. JOIN THE PARTY OR SUFFER MY WRATH— Ow!"

I ribbed him, knowing he didn't truly mean any harm but also not wishing the other park guests to be scared. That would be unfair to them, not to mention counterintuitive to my plan.

"Okay, okay. JOIN THE PARTY OR SUFFER AS YOU WATCH EVERYONE ELSE BE COOLER THAN YOU," he amended. To my surprise, I noticed several younger kids try to slip away from their parents; a couple of them made it away in time for Morro to notice them.

I fully expected him to tell the children to scram, but to my surprise, he simply looked over and said, "Oh, hey," to the extremely young group. Then he turned his glance back to the surrounding adults and shouted again, "ANYONE ELSE WANT TO JOIN?"

One mom came rushing over and told her kids they had to go— I didn't blame her— but the others were either too afraid to get close to Morro, elsewhere in the park, or simply not present at all. One kid raised his hand as if he were in a classroom.

"Yea?" Morro asked the boy, still surprisingly unbothered by the age group of the apparent judges.

"How many points can we give?" he asked, likewise unfazed by Morro's dark and commanding demeanor. As I focused on the children more, I realized that only two or three of them were hiding behind the other kids nervously; the others all seemed perfectly unaware of Morro's… well… Morro-ness.

"As many as you want," the teen responded casually. "Rules are dumb. The less of them, the better." Then to me, he said without warning, "Ready? GO!" and took off running, lifting his kite in a gust of wind. The kids cheered, and I realized I'd better start running, too. I was remarkably slower than him, of course, but my kite still started soaring upward in fine time. Once I caught up enough to catch Morro's tailwind, my bright yellow dragon shot upwards, swirling around itself for a moment before I tugged on the string and steadied it again.

"Ten points!" shouted one kid from the back. It hadn't occurred to me that that might've been seen as an intentional kite trick, but then again, most of them didn't know any better.

Having heard the comment and upset that I'd drawn first blood, so to speak, Morro suddenly reversed the direction of his airstream, causing his kite to go in reverse. He ran backwards underneath it, his arms outstretched to the sky. A couple kids cheered.

"Ten points," I heard a shyer kid whisper, apparently deciding that ten was the standard set by the previous commenter. I sent a confident smirk Morro's way, which he noticed.

"Oh, I'm just getting warmed up," he laughed, and with an extremely cocky grin on his face, sent up another several patterned blasts of wind, causing his kite to draw a big star in the sky. The jury of children giggled and squealed as he repeated the trick again and again, faster each time.

"Well, it may be no sky star," I said, drawing the childrens' attention to myself, "but I do have a little something called… _THE DANCING DRAGON!"_ Running in Morro's direction, I tugged down the kite string forcefully and quickly, then let go, leaving my kite to soar back up in the air. After repeating the motions, my dragon-shaped kite pranced about in the sky, dipping up and down like a swimming dolphin. Several kids shouted their "ten points!" in at the same time.

"Dragon dancing, dragon prancing," Morro said in a mocking voice, unaware that he'd just stated pretty much exactly what my kite had been doing. "I'll show you what REAL kiting looks like!"

"Kiting? Is that a word?" I heard one boy ask. The oldest of the group— a girl of maybe 12 at the oldest— promptly responded by yelling, "TEN POINTS OFF FOR BAD GRAMMAR!" (I wasn't looking, but I'm pretty sure Garmadon— who was watching a distance from the kids— smiled at her comment.)

"Wha— kiting is TOO a word!" Morro cried, losing his focus momentarily. The kids gasped as his kite fell towards the ground, but it quickly soared back up again.

"Hey, they're the judges," I said playfully, even though I knew that kiting _was_ a word, and with several different meanings at that.

"Fine," Morro huffed. "It doesn't matter anyway. Prepare to be amazed!" Then, with a single, wind-powered leap, he jumped into the oak tree which we were using for height measurement. A few kids who hadn't seen his earlier feats gasped. Using his kite once again as a glider, he jumped off his branch and powered a gust of wind with his feet, shooting him into the air where he started flying around. The judges whooped and hollered and shouted tricks for him to perform ("do a loop!" "go upside-down!"), all of which he happily obliged to.

Suddenly, I felt my own kite string give a tug, as if it were trying to remind me of something. The sounds of "ten points!" and Morro's boasting were drowned out in a memory that overtook me rather violently.

 _"_ _Father, my kite won't fly."_

 _I looked down at my son and laughed, ruffling my fingers through his blond hair. "Of course it won't, Zane. Someone has to hold it behind you while you run before releasing. Otherwise, it won't catch the wind."_

 _The tiny child looked up at me with innocent blue eyes. "Oh. Will you hold it for me, father?"_

 _"_ _Of course I will." I smiled and took hold of the simple kite, and my boy took off running. His agility and speed, even at his age, already outstripped mine by far. When he was going fast enough, I released his kite and watched it lift slowly into the sky. The android continued running for almost a solid minute before he looked behind him and realized what had happened._

 _"_ _It's flying! Father, my kite is flying!" he squealed. His excitement and childish wonder never ceased to fill my heart with joy._

 _"_ _Well, look at that," I said, with sincere pride. "It sure is."_

 _"_ _Doctor Julien?"_

 _Hm. That was amiss. My son never called me by my formal title._

"Doctor Julien!"

I heard a nearby _THUMP_ and turned to see that, in the midst of my reminiscing, my kite had hit the ground. I looked up, trying to remember where I was and what was happening. Morro, surprisingly enough, was on the ground, keeping one hand busy with an airstream for his kite and waving the other at me in large, sweeping motions.

"Helloooo? Earth to the doc', something's amok!" he sing-songed.

"I think it's pronounced 'uh- _muk_ '—" I heard the grammar girl from earlier whisper, but another one of the kids motioned for her to be quiet. I hadn't noticed that the kids had also followed Morro over to me.

"Erm, terribly sorry," I said, once I had regained my bearings. "I got a little distracted."

"You don't say! Your kite hit the ground, that disqualifies you automatically!" Morro huffed. He seemed quite upset at the sudden resolution of the competition, although if my eyes didn't deceive me, he also looked a tiny bit worried for… me? My kite? Honestly, with him it was impossible to tell.

"You went all blank!" One little boy suddenly piped up. "Like a zombie!" He stuck his arms out and started making zombie noises. Some of the other kids giggled, but quickly turned sullen and tried to shush him as they realized I was still within earshot.

"Like a zombie, hmm?" I asked, my voice slightly condescending, as if I were offended by the remark. "Well, there's no need to worry about that. I'm a ghost, just like you… unless, of course, I'm actually a ZOMBIE-GHOST! RAUGHHHH!" I stuck my hands in front of me, mimicking the little boy's motions, and starting walking towards the kids slowly while making noises. Every child in the group shrieked and ran away laughing, dispersing across the park to escape my wrath. I smiled as I heard their tiny, gleeful screams fill the air, attracting back some of the parents who had left earlier.

"Huh." Morro looked over at me and cocked his head. "I gotta admit, I wouldn't have pegged you down as the type to make little kids run away screaming. Not that I'm complaining," he added quickly.

I chuckled. "Oh, there's a difference between screams of terror and screams of fun. No harm in a little screaming, so long as it's the fun kind," I said. "Besides," I added, "you can get just as many people to do you favors by making them like you as you would by making them afraid of you."

Morro looked like he was about to say something, but Garmadon walked up from behind us and asked loudly,

"So I suppose this competition of yours is over, then?"

Morro whipped around quickly, having not detected him coming. "I guess. I won, of course, like I said I would. Although I'd honestly hoped four-eyes here would have been more of a challenge," he grumbled, more so to me than to the other.

"I guess I might have just gotten a little caught up watching your stunts," I said, picking up my kite and winding the string back up. I winked at Garmadon, although I still wasn't sure he knew what I was doing. No matter. I'd explain later tonight, if I got the chance.

Morro was visibly thrown off-guard by my compliment, but quickly regained his posture. "Well, I AM the best kite-flyer there is. I _suppose_ I can understand your beginner's mistake," he said. "But next time, don't let yourself get blinded by my sheer awesomeness, or you won't be much fun to compete with." (I personally thought his use of the word "awesomeness" made him sound much younger than he realized, but I didn't say anything on the matter.)

"So…" Garmadon started. He shifted his weight awkwardly and cleared his throat. "I guess you're supposed to teach _me_ how to fly a kite or something now, right?"

Morro grinned, which unfortunately made him automatically look like he was scheming an evil plan, even if he were doing no such thing.

"I'm ready if you are, Gray-madon."

Garmadon swiftly jumped up a surprising distance, grabbed Morro's kite in midair, landed perfectly on his feet, and whacked him over the head with it.

—

(A/N: Woops, this chapter got longer than intended... probably because I wrote it over several days instead of in one sitting. Anyway, I hope you guys liked it! As always, reviews are highly appreciated and motivate me to keep writing! ^_^)


	7. Tangles

"I thought you said the string wouldn't get tangled!"

"Yea, if you did everything I said, which you _didn't!"_

I sighed and rubbed my temples. I probably shouldn't have expected an easily angered, prideful, stubborn Master of Wind to be able to teach something to the equally prideful and stubborn former Lord of Darkness without any problems. Still, I was happy that they were trying. Maybe in time, their relationship would get better.

"This time, maybe AVOID the trees?"

"That's what I was TRYING to do!"

…but for now, it was too loud for my taste. As the two argued, I slowly backed away until I found myself at a bench to sit down on. I was still easily in sight of the conversation, but now at least my ears could rest. And my feet, for that matter. I sighed deeply and started thinking about machines. The sudden urge to tinker overwhelmed me and I decided I really needed some sort of physical project to be working on, for when this "other" project wasn't going so well. I couldn't build weaponry, of course— no need for that in the afterlife— but I couldn't build a vehicle, either, as it was agreed-upon protocol to walk everywhere. There wasn't really a law _against_ vehicles, but with so much time to spend and a limited amount of things to do, there was no reason to have them around: they just provided even more time to kill, which hardly anybody wanted.

I was snapped out of my thoughts by a rustling in the bushes next to me. At first I thought Morro was going to pop out and scare me as a prank, but he was still a distance off, arguing with Garmadon. Then, a tiny human head popped out from inside one of the bushes, watching the argument intensely. It belonged to a small child— one of the judges from the duel, I realized. The first one to have come over, in fact. He didn't notice me notice him, so I studied him via glimpses off to the side while he was engrossed with the debate a few yards off. (Well, studied his face, at least— most of his body was still hidden in the bushes.)

He had short dark hair, almost as black as Morro's, and eyes just as dark, which pierced through thin-rimmed rectangular glasses. I wondered how he acquired glasses so young: his parents must have either been very rich back on Ninjago, or his eyesight must have been _extremely_ bad, rendering them a necessity, and I didn't think the lenses were thick enough to indicate that. Light freckles dotted the boy's cheeks, and his ears were pretty large. I found myself desperately hoping that none of the other departed kids made fun of him for them.

Suddenly, the boy looked my way and squeaked, then quickly ducked back into the bush. I chuckled somewhat.

"Hey now," I said, "it's all right. Enjoying the show?"

The boy didn't answer or come out from his hiding spot.

"Don't worry," I reassured him, "I'm not going to tell your parents if you ran off. What's your name?"

Still no answer. I sighed, a bit disappointed. I was generally pretty good with kids… then again, every child was different, and I couldn't very well suppose that I would immediately get along with _all_ of them.

"All right," I said respectfully, "I'll leave you be, if that's what you wish." I got up off the bench and headed back over towards the argument, deciding it was probably about time to stop the conflict before either parties got each other killed again.

"Look, if you're trying to get a good gust of wind, you can't just—" Morro was saying, but he abruptly cut himself off when he saw me approaching. Both he and Garmadon turned.

"Is something the matter, Doctor Julien?" the Sensei asked. I paused, expecting one of them to ask me to take sides. Probably Morro.

"Erm… I was just wondering how the lesson was going," I said awkwardly. I pushed my glasses up on my face, unsure of how to stop the argument if they were no longer arguing.

"Well, Grandpa-don here is having trouble running fast enough to get a good starting gust—"

Garmadon cocked his head at the boy in exasperation. " _How_ many of those nicknames do you _have!?"_ he asked, picking up his kite and whacking Morro's back with an almost-defeated expression.

"A good card player never reveals his hand. Anyway," Morro responded, answering the question without breaking eye contact with me, "that means he's flying his kite too low, which obviously ends up with it getting caught in trees, which keeps tangling the string."

"Ah," was all I could think to reply to that. I hesitated, but decided to go ahead and try to offer a solution. "Is it possible that since you fly kites rather… unconventionally… that it's harder for you to teach someone without your skill?"

"I'm _trying_ to teach him how to _have_ skill," Morro scoffed.

"Actually, I meant your ability to manipulate the wind…" I clarified, tugging at the sleeves of my lab coat a bit nervously.

"Oh." Morro paused. "Well, that part's not _my_ fault—"

"Yes, but you won't even give my kite a boost!" Garmadon cut in.

"That's because you won't learn how to do it on your own if I help you!" Morro retorted.

 _Aaah_. So Morro was refusing to help Garmadon with his powers when he was having trouble. Suddenly the argument made a lot more sense to me. It wasn't just about the kites— they were both defending a position about teaching which they believed in strongly. (That, or they just liked to argue, which was still a possibility.)

"Garmadon," I said quickly, "didn't you once say something similar to Lloyd? That he needed to learn how to fend for himself?"

"Well— yes," he replied, "but this is different! I showed him everything I knew first, even helped him perform all the moves I was teaching. _Then_ I made him do it on his own. I didn't just toss him out in the cold and tell him to do everything on his first try," he scoffed defensively.

"Well, that's how Wu taught _me,"_ Morro snapped back.

A sudden silence fell over all three of us. Garmadon and I looked at each other, and I could've sworn we had an entire conversation using only our eyes. It couldn't exactly be translated into words, but the general idea was understandable enough: Arguing Morro on this point was hopeless, because his statement was true— whether it was intentional or not, Wu had pretty much left the boy to learn everything on his own, with little to no guidance. I distinctly remembered Zane telling me once how Wu had taught him and the others Spinjitzu: by setting up an obstacle course which required Spinjitzu to complete, and then putting all three ninja through said obstacle course every day until they got it. Since Jay, Cole, and Zane were all trained at the same time, they snuck each other tips at night about how to get through. (That you needed to jump over this, or _not_ jump over that, or wait until the punching bags were right in front of you to punch.) Therefore, they weren't really doing the course alone, and learned to rely on each _other_ as teachers. However, according to Zane, Kai never got that luxury: the others weren't even told of his existence until after he mastered Spinjitzu, so he actually _was_ without a teacher. In other words, Kai really _did_ learn everything alone… and as an unforeseen side-effect, he apparently grew something of an ego.

"Morro," I said, choosing my words very carefully, "I understand where you're coming from. But perhaps forcing others to do things on their own isn't _always_ the best teaching method." Before he could respond and thus drag me into the argument, I added, "After all, Garmadon here isn't anywhere close to your skill level, as you've pointed out. Isn't there a possibility that he might need at least _some_ help before he can do all the things you can do?"

Morro paused, and I silently crossed my fingers that Garmadon wouldn't say something to interrupt. My wishes were granted, as finally Morro spoke up:

"Well, I still say he's a weakling if he has to ask others for help… but fine, whatever. I'll give him a boost."

"Finally," Garmadon mumbled, although thankfully I don't think Morro heard him.

I smiled silently to myself as the pair walked back a few paces to give the kite-flying another go. It might take a lot of work, but I was sure that the two could eventually come to terms with each other. Considering the awkward relationship of both of their pasts, they really weren't doing so badly, already. To be honest— although I'd never say it in front of them— I almost thought they acted rather like father and son, not from my own experiences, but from what I knew of others.

I glanced back at my bench, considering sitting down again, when I noticed a movement in the nearby bushes. I turned my head quickly, not wanting to be seen as a stalker or intruder… but I knew that as I did, a black-haired figure was peeping out to watch the upcoming spectacle.

—

(A/N: HELLO AGAIN! *Waves frantically* So, I've been working on something which I finally finished, and I've been pretty nervous-cited to tell you all… SDLPC has an outline now! Whaaat? That's right, I actually know where the heck this random Slice-Of-Afterlife is going! XD Anyway, I don't want to say the number of chapters or anything because they'll probably fluctuate, but I'm crossing my fingers that the muse doesn't completely ditch me while I'm working on this because honestly, I kind of really like everything I've got planned. Even if most of that still consists of domestic roommate shenanigans ^_^ Anyhow, hope you enjoyed this [kinda short] chapter and I'll see you all in the next one!)


	8. Memories

_I don't panic easily. Unlike most people I know, I can keep a cool head in a tough situation. It's one of the many things that sets me apart from the other kids my age._

 _But being lost and alone in one of the most dangerous forests in Ninjago, with nothing but the clothes on my back and a tattered copy of "Mechanical Engineering For Dummies?" Come on, that's a fair reason to panic._

 _Okay, I need to stay cool. I start planning immediately. If I'm stuck here for the rest of my life, I'll have to find shelter, so I'll find a grove of trees thick enough to provide protection from the snow. I can probably keep myself warm enough by gathering a bunch of fallen leaves and making a giant pile for nighttime, and I already know which berries of this forest are poisonous and which one's aren't, and if worst comes to worst I could use a sharpened tree branch to kill a small animal, although I REALLY don't want to, but I should probably make some sort of weapon anyway in case a treehorn comes around and—_

 _As I'm surveying the land for leaves, sticks, and treehorns, I notice something behind me and a wave of relief washes over me: my tracks in the snow are still fresh, meaning I can follow them back the way I came. I tuck my book under my jacket, mostly to prevent the temptation of reading it while I walk (which is how I got myself into this mess in the first place), and start heading back._

 _Walking takes a long time. A loooong time. Faced with nothing but the trek ahead, I have time to notice every little detail of the forest. Not an oddly shaped black marking on white birch, or single blue gradient of the sky, or tiny little bird trying to blend in with its scenery escapes my notice. My blue eyes pierce through every half-shaped cumulus cloud and every thin veil of snow covering the rocks. I'm only about half of the way back when I figure I must've walked at least a mile. Another quarter of the way and I decide it's probably closer to ten. I'm bored. If I could just do something to pass the time…_

 _I sigh and reprimand myself as I continue walking. No books until I get back to town. With any luck, I'll at least have a new one to read when I arrive. The thought lifts my spirits and increases my pace greatly, and the trees around me pass by my line of sight faster. Mom sometimes buys me new books when we visit town on vacation, if we have the money. She's actually a pretty cool mom most of the time._

 ** _"SANJAY ARAN JULIEN!"_**

 _…but then again, she is still a mother. A mother who is waiting a few paces from the edge of the forest and has spotted me approaching. I wince: every child knows what it means to be called by their full name. I find that my pace has suddenly slowed down drastically._

 ** _"SANJAY, YOU GET DOWN HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"_**

 _I sigh and start speeding up again, though not by my own free will. I know exactly what's coming: a long lecture about safety and responsibility and why I can't be trusted on my own, and probably something thrown in about how I spend too much time studying and need to make some friends my age (yeah, right— sometimes I don't even feel like I AM my age), and worst of all, no new books to read. I trudge along quickly with a mixture of guilt, anger, and disappointment guiding my steps. Some part of me is grateful that I wasn't attacked by a treehorn (another thing my mom will most definitely point out), but I push that part of me back until later when I feel like being reasonable again. Which at the moment, I decide stubbornly, I do not._

—

(A/N: OKAY, SLOW DOWN, DON'T KILL ME YET. I HAVE ANSWERS. Yes, there is a reason for this short and weird chapter. And yes, there is a reason why it's completely italicized (*ahem* like the earlier flashback) and in the present tense. Also, nobody claimed a headcanon for Doctor Julien's first name yet, so I did! Live with it. XD [*is actually low-key desperate for approval that it's a good name*] And just in case anybody couldn't figure it out from the title, this IS a flashback of sorts. All shall be explained, I promise!) (P.S. According to Grass Whistle [ANOTHER amazing fic by EA that you all should be reading], Dr. Julien's eyes are blue. So, they're blue. Sorry, I don't make the rules. ;P)


	9. Cause and Effect

The morning after the Kite Duel, I stumbled out of bed in such a sleepy daze that I accidentally bonked my head on the lamp of my bedside table. Not a great start to the day.

Rubbing my eyes, I dragged my feet down the hall, only motivated to keep moving by the welcome smell of warm french toast and syrup. When I finally arrived at the kitchen, Garmadon was laboring over the stovetop, looking almost as tired as myself. He glanced over in my direction.

"Dr. Julien," he said, in the same tone of voice anyone else would say 'good morning.' "I'm glad you're up. I just finished breakfast; I was getting worried you wouldn't wake up before it got cold."

"Ah, well, for your cooking," I said, smiling, "I'd wake up early any day."

He chuckled and got to work flipping stacks french toast onto three nearby paper plates. Paper because, of course, washing the dishes was a huge no-no for any ghost in their right mind. Just another one of the many quirks of the afterlife— and personally, one of my favorites. Back on Ninjago, I'd hated doing the dishes so much I'd built myself a robot to do them for me.

"You sleep okay?" I asked, a little concerned for my present company.

"Yes," he said, clearly lying. He turned back to his work, pouring a pool of thick syrup on each of our plates.

I hesitated. Whatever _he'd_ dreamt about last night— and from what Wu had told me of their shared backstory, I had a fair guess— he seemed worried that he'd dreamt it. I didn't want to push the matter, but I also remembered my first Nights of Flashback, and how much better I'd felt after knowing I wasn't alone in them.

"Have any dreams last night?" I asked, trying to put on as gentle and casual of a voice as I could. Garmadon hesitated, then turned around and asked:

"Yes, actually… how did you know?"

I nodded to myself, taking a seat at the kitchen table. "Don't worry, it's perfectly normal." I was about to go on, but Garmadon thought I was done talking and continued.

"My dreams… they were of my childhood. Of times when I was so little I'd forgotten those days even happened, until now."

I chuckled. "Oh, trust me, I understand that feeling. To be honest, my entire life before I built Zane feels like a blur. All my fondest memories were after he was built— not that I had a particularly bad childhood," I added quickly. But Garmadon was too engrossed in thought to respond. For several seconds, he simply stood at the stove with his brow furrowed before speaking up again.

"It felt so _real._ As if… I wasn't even remembering anything. I didn't know what was going to happen next; all the emotions I experienced the first time, I experienced the exact same way all over again. And everything was so sharp and distinct and…" he trailed off again. Finally, he sighed and said, "Well, it sure didn't feel like a dream."

"Are you old geezers starting your Nights of Flashback _already?"_ came a much younger yet much raspier, morning-struck voice. As the day before, Morro came stumbling into the party just a few minutes late, looking deader than ever despite having slept longer than either of us.

"What in Ninjago are Nights of Flashback?" Garmadon asked, as I walked over and took the plates of food to set on the table.

"Morro, you're right on cue, as usual," I said, motioning for him to join me at the table. "Since you like to talk and I want to eat, would you care to explain the Nights of Flashback to Garmadon?"

"What'ver," he mumbled, snatching a piece of toast from my plate and popping it into his mouth. I retorted with a "hey!" and stole one from his plate in return.

"The Nights of Flashback— or, for you, the Nights of Flash-WAYback," he started with a yawn, "are a sort of unintentional, non-optional ceremonial preparation for Day of the Departed, which I believe is in…" he glanced at the conveniently nearby calendar on the wall. "Five days, counting today."

I chuckled at his rather accurate description and took a big bite of french toast dunked in syrup as he went on. Most syrups were too sweet for me, but one of the advantages of someone else using _my_ ingredients was that there was never anything on the plate I didn't like.

"The Nights of Flashback occur during the days leading up to Dotted; how _many_ days depends on how old you are because—"

"Dotted?" Garmadon asked, taking his own seat at the table. Morro rolled his eyes.

"Day of the Departed. D—O—T—D. Dotted. It's an acronym. Makes things shorter. ANYWAY, during the Nights of Flashback, you have vivid dreams of your lifetime. Key moments and sometimes random snippets of your life, usually in chronological order, are perfectly recreated in your head. You hear, see, smell, taste, and feel everything exactly as it was. The dreams last until Dotted, which is, you know, the most celebrated holiday around here because people get to see their families and stuff—"

"I'm sorry, WHAT?" Garmadon sputtered, almost choking on a piece of toast.

"Well, you know, not like, interact with them, but see them and—" Suddenly, he frowned. "Oh, wait, you don't know about how Dotted works here yet. Guess I have to explain THAT, too." He sighed and shoved a huge amount of food in his mouth, as if preparing for some great physical undertaking. "All right, so you know how during Day of the Departed in Ninjago, people send up red lanterns for those that have departed? Well, guess who receives those lanterns?"

Garmadon, still silenced by awe, meekly pointed a questioning finger towards himself.

"Yup. The lanterns' spirits pass through the physical realms into ours, and hang themselves in the air around the Central Willow. People go find the lanterns that were sent up for them— apparently there's some mystical force that guides you towards your lantern— and when they find them, the lanterns display updates on the lives of the people who sent them up."

"'Apparently' there's a mystical force?" Garmadon asked, not noticing my silent signals not to.

"Yea, well, I don't know what it feels like. Obviously, no one's ever sent up a lantern for me before, so…" Morro shrugged, and kept a remarkable poker face.

"Oh." Garmadon went quiet.

"Y-yes, well," I said, attempting to change the subject, well aware that Morro's poker face was almost definitely a facade, "that's the focal event of the night, but there are also traditional meals and other festivities, like dancing." I got up from my seat and walked over to the refrigerator, intending to get another bottle of syrup (Morro had gone a bit overboard with his), but upon looking into the cold appliance I found it rather empty. I turned around expectantly. Before I even spoke a word, Morro quickly became very interested in readjusting the green streak in his hair.

"You know, last time I checked, there was food in this fridge," I said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Hm. I _thought_ it looked rather empty when I went to make breakfast," Garmadon said, also turning his head toward the teen. Morro paused, then looked up at me.

"Well, what did you expect with three ghosts living in one house?" he huffed defensively.

"I didn't. I wasn't expecting company, particularly not company who apparently likes to steal midnight snacks," I teased back.

"Hey, my Nights of Flashback don't start until a day before Dotted, sometimes two. I get bored! And hungry!" he groaned. Garmadon crossed his arms, but I merely laughed at the boy.

"Well then, looks like today, those three ghosts will be spending time going grocery shopping at Trader Godot's," I said with a smirk. Morro started to protest, but I winked and cut him off.

"Hey, what did you expect?"

—

(A/N: Man, I'm on a writing kick lately! Bonus points for anyone who gets the pun at the end :D Also, I'd like to say a quick thank-you to all my guests who leave reviews: I may not respond to you guys, but I still read every single comment you leave and they make me very happy! Thank you all so much!)


	10. Grocery Shopping

Trader Godot's was a relatively small, specialized grocery store that carried a large variety of snacks as well as basic foodstuffs. It also cost a bit more credit per item than was typical for the Departed Realm, so generally only the most noble or benevolent would shop there.

"Yeesh, what is this, the old-person store?" Morro asked when we walked through the doors. I glanced around and was surprised to see that he had a point— the majority of the shoppers were around my age, at least.

"I can see why _you_ shop here…" he muttered, grabbing a grocery cart.

"Hey now," I said, "you'd better watch your choice of jokes before I announce to the whole store that I've brought them a new old person."

"But I'm just here with _you,"_ he retorted. " _I'm_ not old."

"Oh, please," I said, smiling as we started making our way down the aisles. I was only picking up my usual buys, but Garmadon kept getting distracted by various displays. "You're only a few years younger than me, at most."

"What?!" Morro exclaimed incredulously. "No I'm not!"

"Actually, Dr. Julien has a point," Garamdon said, turning away from a stand of roasted mixed nuts. "Wu took you in as his pupil when he was still a very young man, did he not? And you were only— what did you say— five years old at the time?"

"Yeah, but—" Morro tried to cut in.

"Well, Dr. Julien is a little younger than Wu, so he was probably a teenager when you were just a child. Translating that, he could very well be no older than ten years above _your_ age."

Morro sputtered and tried to think of a comeback, but couldn't.

"Are you quite all right, Morro?" I asked, trying to contain my giggling. "You look as white as a non-ghost!" Garmadon whistled and actually held up his hand for a high-five as the teen tried to figure out what just happened.

"Oh look, they have garlic knots," I pointed out, changing the subject before Morro could think of a way to respond. I had a hard time remembering when I last had to hold in laughter like that.

Garmadon picked up the box I was pointing to and looked on the back. "Where's the nutritional information? I can't find it."

"There is none," I said, still chuckling. "There's no point, since ghosts don't take in food the same way as living beings. You wholly absorb whatever you eat; that is, you gain energy from it, but all the nutrients and fat and material things just disappear. So technically, you could eat nothing but sweets for the rest of eternity, if you wanted to."

"OH! OH!" Morro exclaimed, tugging on my other companions' sleeves. "SEE? I TOLD YOU SO! I TOLD YOU!" He turned to me and pointed accusingly at Garmadon. "I TOLD him you could live off of nothing but sweets, but he didn't believe me!" He started bouncing up and down in triumph like an excited little kid.

Garmadon sighed. "Okay, yes, you _did_ tell me that. But you didn't _explain_ it— and how was I supposed to trust you?"

Morro was too occupied with his victory dance to respond. Putting the box of garlic knots in the the shopping cart— and then on second-thought, grabbing two more boxes— I chuckled.

"Sounds like you two had some very interesting discussions," I said, moving the cart along while grabbing some cans of sliced peaches off the shelves.

"Yes, well, before you so kindly offered to take us in, we were stuck wandering—" Garmadon started, but Morro cut him off.

"Doc, look, they've got cinnamon cookies already!" He sped over to a display halfway down the aisle and ran back with a box in hand.

"Don't they usually wait until the day before to put those out?" I asked, frowning.

"I dunno. Maybe this store carries them earlier. Either way, don't know, don't care," he said, putting the box in the cart. I took it back out.

"The day before what? Day of the Departed?" Garmadon asked. I nodded to confirm, but kept my eyes locked on Morro.

"We don't need these yet," I said, putting the box back on the shelf.

"Psh. Yes we do," he insisted, grabbing a different box. I blocked his way to the cart, but he leaped over my head and jumped into the cart, slamming the treats down triumphantly.

"We are _not_ buying those early," I said, reaching into the cart and snatching them back. "We are not going to be _those people."_

Morro suddenly got a mischievous look in his eye. "You're right, we'd better not. Don't want to be _those people_ ," he said, taking the box back from me, appearing as if he planned to put it back on the shelf. But before he'd set it down, the cart suddenly launched backwards several feet.

"Oh no!" he cried in feigned terror. "This cart's been possessed! Doc, help!" Suddenly, the cart wheeled out of the aisle entirely. It took me a moment to figure it out, but I realized he was shooting out gusts of air behind him to propel his ride forward.

"Morro, you come back here this instant," Garmadon said in a dangerous tone, and Morro grinned and reached out his hand dramatically in response.

"I can't! You have to save me! The cart's been possessed by a _ghoooooooost!"_ he cried, shooting a wind gust from his outstretched hand. Garmadon's years of training kicked in and he launched forward to stop the cart, which was now wheeling down the next aisle. I followed him as fast as I could, and just like that, the chase was on.

"Look out!" I heard another shopper shriek, and turned the corner just in time to see Morro swerve around the customer and her cart without stopping.

"Sorry, Ma'am," Garmadon cried as he followed. I simply gave an apologetic wave as I passed her by, trying to keep up.

"Sensei, help me!" the teen yelped again, with a suspiciously good damsel-in-distress voice. Garmadon neared him, but the blast of wind now blowing in his face slowed him down. The cart and following chase squadron sped around a free-standing display of organic banana chips, and unfortunately, several people were now glancing in the direction of the chase scene. In the midst of the hot pursuit, Garmadon turned his head to me, realizing something.

"You've got to cut him off from the other end of the aisle. I'll get him to go back to the section with the cookies, you just be ready to stop him when we get there!" he instructed me, using his you're-the-world's-last-hope voice. I nodded and swerved off from his course, heading through the front of the store. Several people watched me run by, which was admittedly rather embarrassing.

"Don't you DARE be thinking about grabbing more of those cookies!" I heard a faint voice yell as I neared my destination. I had to admit, Garmadon knew what he was doing. I stopped at the entrance to the row of goods, trying to catch my breath. I looked up to see the shopping cart wheel into the aisle, with Morro still inside. He was laughing his head off and used another gust of wind to fly several more boxes of cookies inside the cart, before he looked forwards and realized I was blocking the exit. I heard his shriek just as I realized that maybe Garmadon's idea had been slightly flawed: Morro was coming on too fast to stop the cart before it crashed. I shut my eyes tightly and braced myself for impact.

A split-second later, I _did_ feel an impact, but it wasn't in the way I expected. Just before the heavy cart should've slammed into my chest, I felt someone grab me tightly and I was suddenly lifted into the air. I heard a _"gotcha!"_ from down below, followed by the dull skidding of wheels. The pressure of someone holding onto me didn't go away, so after I had remained in the air several seconds without falling, I cracked one eye open to see Garmadon a good distance down, holding the cart (which was now full of nothing but food) firmly with both hands. He looked up in my direction and gave an angry "come here" motion, and it took me a moment to realize it wasn't directed at me. I shut my eyes, a little motion sick from the suddenness of being airborne, and felt myself slowly descend until Morro set me down and unwrapped his arms from around me. I blinked a few times, readjusting myself, and was surprised to see that he looked genuinely shaken.

"You okay?" he asked worriedly, but before I could respond, Garmadon motioned for him to come over. He obeyed instructions. I followed him.

"What were you _thinking?"_ the Sensei reprimanded the boy.

He cast his gaze downward, actually looking a bit ashamed of himself. "I was just trying to have fun," he mumbled, but didn't look Garmadon in the eye.

"Well, that was _incredibly_ dangerous," he responded angrily. "Getting hurt may not be permanent here, but it's still painful. I know that from when that stray baseball knocked me in the head," he said, making a knocking motion on his skull to emphasize his point. "And that was before Dr. Julien agreed to take us in— a motion of kindness which _you_ have now repaid by almost slamming into him with a shopping cart full of food, which by the way, was meant to replace the stuff _you_ ate!"

To be honest, the man's speech was gathering more onlookers than the cart chase itself had. Morro kept his head down, his expression slowly turning downright miserable— and given how harsh Garmadon's tone of voice was, I didn't blame him. But I stayed silent and let the Sensei continue. He rambled on for several more minutes until he finally asked the boy,

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

Morro stayed quiet for a moment— was he… biting his lip…?— and then looked up at me and whispered:

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you—!" His voice choked and he wiped his eyes with his sleeve, looking very much in pain. _Maker of plastic bricks, was he_ ** _crying_** _?_

"Good. Now you're going to put away all this excess stuff you've been picking up," Garmadon said harshly, motioning to the many boxes of cookies, "and after that you can pay for the food with your own credit."

Morro nodded meekly and slowly pushed the shopping cart back down the aisle without a sound. I watched the scene with a mixture of awe for Garmadon's discipline, sympathy for Morro (who surprisingly looked genuinely upset over his actions), and guilt for the thought that maybe I could've prevented the scenario from happening in the first place.

"I'm sorry about this," I whispered to Garmadon, once most of the shoppers and cashiers had turned back to their own business. He shook his head.

"It's not your fault. And as upset as I am over Morro's behavior, I'm glad something like this came up _now_ rather than at a bigger event, when other people may have gotten hurt." He looked at me with an odd gleam of curiosity in his eyes. "I don't know how you've done it, but somehow, you've gotten the boy to care for you. And now if he won't watch himself for his own sake, he may at least keep himself in check for yours."

I looked thoughtfully over at the teen, who was carefully and neatly stacking the boxes of cookies back where they came from. A few other people in the aisle snatched glances at him, as if they couldn't believe he was the same kid who had nearly crashed into multiple displays with a shopping cart just minutes earlier. He didn't seem to notice their presence.

"So," I said to Garmadon quietly, "after this, what do we do?"

He looked up at me in surprise. "What do you mean? You're a father. Surely you've disciplined Zane before."

I laughed weakly. "The worst thing Zane ever did was sneak outside our home to see the forest when he was just a little tyke. I grounded him from books for a day, but he was already so guilt-ridden from worrying me that he never snuck out again. Actually, since that incident, I don't think he's _ever_ disobeyed me."

Garmadon whistled. "I'm impressed. Then again, you did build the boy…" He shook his head out of his thoughts. "Well, with Morro I'd suggest doing exactly what I used to do with Lloyd. Punish him for his actions and make him right his wrongs— which I've done— give him some time to recover, and then force him to move on." He shrugged. "Bouncing back after a failure is an important skill to learn, and that includes with morals."

I took a moment to absorb everything he'd said. Finally, I spoke back. "You're a very wise man," I said, shyly readjusting my spectacles. "I can see why you became a Sensei."

Garmadon smiled at my compliment, but his attention was then brought back to Morro, who had returned from putting back all the cinnamon cookies. The teen was apparently too intimidated to speak— now _that_ was an impressive feat— so he quietly set to work putting the remaining groceries on the checkout counter. After the foodstuffs had been paid for, we each took several large bags and headed out the door.

On the walk back, I turned to Morro to ask him something, but he seemed deep in thought. I decided to leave him be until we got home.

—

(A/N: I... this was supposed to be a fun chapter... I don't know what happened... I'm so sorry X'D Also, I thought "maker of plastic bricks" would be a good exclamation phrase for characters in Ninjago because of obvious reasons. XP Stay tuned for more domestic shenanigans of three dead LEGO minifigures! I can't believe that's actually a sentence I'm typing and publishing for people to read... what is my life... X'D As always, reviews fuel my passion to keep writing my dumb little stories :3)


	11. Food, Books, and Namesakes

I casually passed by the large, sliding-glass doors to my backyard for the umpteenth time in an hour. As every time before, a teenage figure sat criss-crossed on the grass, facing away from the house. I was honestly still shocked over how affected he was by the events just a few hours prior. He didn't seem like the type to be able to walk all the way home in silence even if he wanted to, much less walk home in silence and then sit still for an _hour_ doing seemingly nothing to entertain himself.

"Leave him be, Dr. Julien. He needs time to reflect."

I turned around to face Garmadon and sighed, knowing he was probably right. I just couldn't stop myself from worrying for Morro, despite the fact it was he to blame for almost crashing into me. (Well, mostly— a nagging voice in the back of my mind couldn't help but remember that Garmadon's plan had been involved, too, but I chose not to think about that at the moment.) I shuffled my feet nervously and cleared my throat, deciding for some reason to change the subject from Morro to one that made me almost as uncomfortable.

"Right. Um, if you don't mind me asking…" I fidgeted with the sleeves on my lab coat. Gosh darnit, even back in Ninjago I didn't remember having _this_ much trouble talking to other adults. Perhaps it was different one-on-one: though I'd spent at least a little quality time with the ninja, I'd never really had a heart-to-heart with Wu or Misako, or Garmadon for that matter. Adults were just more difficult to talk to, for some reason.

My companion raised an eyebrow at me and I realized I hadn't finished speaking. I cleared my throat again.

"If you don't mind me asking… why is it that you always address me by title? That is, you don't need to call me 'doctor' every time, but I'm also not sure— er, well, if you'd prefer for me to address you as Sensei, which I haven't been doing. I don't wish to be disrespectful, and I'm sorry if I have been unintentionally."

Garmadon blinked in confusion, then gave a confused half-smile.

"My apologies if I made you think something like that. It hadn't even crossed my mind. I do usually refer to others by their formal titles in the presence of children—" he hesitated, clearly deciding whether or not to make a remark about Morro— "but given the circumstances, I don't mind informality." On second thought, he laughed and added, "If you're wondering why I go by my last name as opposed to my first, it's because I thought it might get confusing having two Lloyds around."

I felt my own eyes light up in delighted surprise. "Lloyd is named after you?! I had no idea! And to think that all those years, I never even considered… hah!" I trailed off, amused by my own thoughts.

Garmadon looked a little lost in thought himself; he grinned and said in something of a wistful voice, "Indeed… it was Misako's idea. To name him after me, that is."

I grinned. I recognized his sense of nostalgia. The time of year was definitely influencing it, but it felt good to see him happy all the same. I suddenly remembered my reason for bringing up the topic in the first place and cleared my throat.

"Right, well, I'm glad we could clear this up. It really is quite charming that Lloyd is your namesake… anyhow, if you wish, just Julien is fine from now on," I said with a hopeful smile.

Garmadon hesitated, then moved backwards a few paces and sat down on the couch, moving aside the blanket Morro had been using. "Actually," he said, "I was wondering… It's completely understandable if you don't wish to share, but I don't believe I ever actually learned your first name."

"Oh!" I exclaimed in surprise, and then sat down on the couch myself, habitually lowering my own height to match that of my companion's. "Actually," I said sheepishly, "that's not a fact anybody knows, except for Zane."

"If you'd rather not tell—" he said quickly, but I cut him off.

"No, no, it's not that it's a secret. Just, erm… well, nobody's ever asked, actually. I guess I _was_ always something of a loner back in Ninjago." I chuckled, embarrassed— goodness, my self-confidence had apparently gone on vacation— and looked down at my feet.

"It's Sanjay," I said, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. It had been a _long_ time since I said my name out loud. Even when I was a child, I hardly ever introduced myself to people. There simply hadn't been many occasions where I met strangers— which I had been perfectly content with. "Sanjay Aran Julien."

"Sanjay," he mused. "It fits you. Although it does make me think of Jay."

I grinned at his comment. "Well, I always liked Jay, so I'll take that as a compliment."

"Yes, he's got quite the inventive mind. I can see why you two got along," he said. Suddenly, he was interrupted by a quiet tapping noise. I turned around to see Morro standing outside, knocking uneasily on the glass doors to get our attention. I walked over, realized they were locked, and undid the latches to let him in.

"Couldn't he have phased through?" Garmadon asked, for some reason to me instead of to Morro himself.

"Everything here is as non-solid as us, which is why we still interact with things as if they are physical. In other words, no phasing," I replied, glancing over at Morro and deciding not to add on "otherwise I would've just phased through that grocery cart."

"So…" Morro said, probably never having had an emotional breakdown before and not knowing how exactly to bounce back from it. Luckily, Garmadon spoke up.

"I'm going to start cooking dinner with all that delicious food we got… I could use a hand with the preparation, though."

"Just tell me what to do," I said eagerly, accompanying him to the kitchen.

"I'm bored and want the food to be ready sooner, so I guess I'll join," Morro said, following me with feigned boredom. He still looked a little uneasy.

"Yeah, right. You just want to learn the sacred arts of cooking so you can use them against me," Garmadon commented teasingly. Morro's face contorted into a much more casual state in response to the joking.

 _And this is the man who said Kite Duels were silly,_ I thought to myself with glee. I grabbed a purifying towel from the countertop and wiped my hands off; afterwards, Morro and Garmadon did the same.

"So what are we making?" I asked, finding some amusement in how small the kitchen was for three people to be cooking at once.

Well, looking at the things you bought," Garmadon said, browsing the now-full cupboards and fridge, "I'm seeing all the ingredients for Chicken Pot Pie here, so I'm going to take that as a cue."

Morro smirked. "Uh-huh. Chicken Pot Pie. That's real sacred, Sensei. Careful or I might steal your magic chicken skills," he said, holding up his hands to imitate claws. Garmadon waved him off.

"Even the simplest dishes can be turned into something marvelous if you know the secrets to enhance them," he said, pulling out a pre-made pie crust from the pantry.

"That sounds like something your brother would say," the teen scoffed.

"No, my brother would sound more like…" Garmadon said, then turned around and pretended to stroke a beard. In a rather mocking Wu voice, he said, "The dishes of the strong are the same as the dishes of the weak. The only difference between them is the amount of wisdom cooked in. And butter. Hoo-wah!" He then struck a fake fighting pose.

Morro doubled over laughing, and I tried not to snicker. "That's rather harsh," I said, opening the package of crust while Garmadon went and turned on the oven.

"Ah, we're brothers. Trust me, his impression of me is no better." He paused, his expression unreadable, and then asked Morro (who was clutching his sides in a giggle fit) to fetch him a stick of butter. Then he turned to me.

"And Dr. Jul—" He stopped himself and smiled. "Sanjay, if you could start chopping vegetables, that would be very helpful."

Morro spun around from the fridge. "Wait, is his name not Julien?!"

"W-well, Sanjay is my first name," I laughed, walking over and grabbing some celery stalks and a knife.

Morro grinned evilly. "You fool," he said to Garmadon, "You've just given me _so_ many new nicknames to work with."

Garmadon slapped his forehead as Morro gleefully set down the butter and pulled out a block of cheese from the fridge.

"Ooh, can we put cheese in this thing? I bet it'd taste awesome," he said. I never quite got over the contrast of his childlike speech and his raspy voice. Forget about the fact that he was nearly a century old— when he wasn't stealing ancient scrolls or trying to kidnap my roommate's son, he acted like a child trapped in a teenager's body.

"We shouldn't mess with the recipe," Garmadon responded as he got out a bag of carrots and a chicken breast. "But if you want to slice up some cheese to put on the side, that would probably be fine." He looked at me questioningly.

"I don't see why not. Cheese makes everything better," I said with a smile.

"All right!" Morro said, walking over to grab a knife from the drawer.

"Um, _no,"_ Garmadon said, plucking the knife out of his hand as he picked it up. "Something tells me you and sharp objects are a bad combination." Morro pouted but stepped aside and let his elder do the cutting. I resisted making a childish joke and instead focused on my work, finding the repetitive motions of slicing and chopping rather calming. When I was finished with my task, I was handed the bag of carrots to start on.

We worked for a while longer, with Garmadon instructing our every move ("Melt the butter into a bowl—" "Morro, stop stealing bites of food, you'll ruin your appetite—" "For goodness' sake, cut _away_ from you, you're going to hurt yourself") and Morro occasionally making a snarky comment or suggestion for another ingredient. Slowly, the dish and several probably unnecessary side-dishes started coming together. It was no mechanical invention, but the process was still rather satisfying. I could see why Garmadon enjoyed it so much, although I had little hope that I would ever catch up to his skill.

Finally, the pie was in the oven, and all that was left to do was wait. Everyone was fairly hungry; between all of us waking up even later than usual, and how long everything else had taken, we hadn't ended up eating lunch.

"I hate being a ghost," Morro muttered as he sauntered into the living room, looking for something to occupy his mind with other than hunger. I shrugged.

"There are good sides to it. By the way, you can borrow any of my books, if you want," I said, watching him browse the large shelves that were scattered along the walls.

"Books are for old people," he said, but he stopped to look at the cover of one called _The Cerberus Dragons._

"So borrow the book, old man," Garmadon teased, coming out of the kitchen and joining us in the living room. Morro hesitated, then took the book over to the glass doors.

"Where are you going?" Garmadon asked.

"Outside. To read in the tree. Like a _not_ old person. Because old people can't climb trees. And I'm going to. So I'm not old," Morro said, and did exactly that, shutting the glass doors behind him.

I chuckled. "I hope he likes the book. That's one of my favorites— of the fictional genre, that is."

"You read a lot," Garmadon said, whether as a question, comment, or teasing insult I couldn't quite tell. So I quietly walked over to the shelf Morro had been browsing and grabbed _Rubber Bands and Paper Clips: Repurposing Simple Inventions_ , thinking highly of his idea to distract himself.

"Would you mind if I took a look at one of these?" Garmadon asked, clearly interested in one of the books in the section.

"Of course!" I exclaimed, a little giddy that I was going to have someone to talk to about all the literature which I'd read and reread so many times over. I tried to follow his line of sight to figure out which book he was looking at. "What's caught your eye?"

He walked over and pushed aside an old copy of _Moby Brick,_ then held out the object of interest. It was a large, red volume with gold letters reading _The Art of Peace._

"Ah, one of the classics," I said. "I'll admit, I never did get around to finishing that one. Not really my area of expertise, I suppose."

"I always wanted to read it. Never had the time," he responded, and settled down on the couch with the tome clutched to his chest like a treasure. I sat beside him, making a mental note to possibly invest in another couch or chair for the room— although admittedly, I didn't mind the current situation— and started reading through my book.

Absorbed in our thoughts, all three members of our odd little clan sat in silence for the next forty minutes as the warm aroma of dinner starting wafting through the house.

—

(A/N: Fun fact about the book Morro picks up: it's the same book that's referenced in another one of my [non-Ninjago] fanfictions, which I wrote MONTHS ago but haven't posted yet [though I'm almost done editing it, so fingers crossed]! Also, self-projecting onto fictional characters is therapeutic. As always, reviews are food for my muse. :D)


	12. Tick Tock

_"Hun, get out of bed. It's almost noon."_

 _I roll over and pull the warm covers further over my head. "Just a few more minutes."_

 _I feel said covers get yanked off of my half-naked body as my mom huffs and claps her hands impatiently. I yelp and sit up, crossing my arms over my chest._

 _"Mom!" I cry, slightly more harshly than intended. I don't mean to cause her trouble in the morning, but I can't help it. I'm just not a morning person. She frowns and scolds me._

 _"In case you forgot, I have a job interview today. I have to take you over to Agamya's… and I'm assuming you'll want to put on some more clothes before you go over," she says, walking out the door to let me get ready. I flush a little in embarrassment, walk over to my dresser, and grab a pair of jeans and a shirt._

 _After I've gotten dressed and brushed my teeth, I walk into our tiny kitchen and snatch an orange to eat on the way. I also grab my schoolbag and a magazine about geology that I got for free at the dentist's office. Mom makes me brush my hair and then we're on our way._

 _It only takes a few minutes to get to Agamya's house. Mom drops me off at the door and tells me she'll be back at six, and to have my school done by the time she gets back. I ring the doorbell. After a moment's pause, the door opens to reveal a blond girl about my height._

 _"Hey," she says, and ushers me in. No further greeting is necessary; my mom's been looking for a job for a while, and by now we know the drill. I follow Agamya to the living room (which is familiarly and pleasantly messy from a wealth of books lying about), and sit on the couch a few paces from her. She lies upside-down with her feet over the top of the couch— she's weird like that— and I sit normally, grabbing a textbook from my backpack._

 _"You've got math?" she asks, seeing the cover._

 _"Yeah. I have to double up today because I procrastinated yesterday, which I'm now regretting," I sigh, opening the book to page 169. It's not that I dislike math— I actually enjoy it sometimes— but I'd rather be doing science. Or reading one of my own books._

 _"What about you?" I ask Agamya, noticing that she has an action/adventure novel in her hands. She shrugs._

 _"I finished all my school this morning."_

 _I make a jealous face and she sticks her tongue out in a playful, teasing manner. Then we're both silent for the next few hours. That's pretty much how it always goes, which I'm completely fine with. I like Agamya— she's one of the only kids (scratch that: the only kid) my age who doesn't mind reading the entire time I'm at her house, and her parents are good friends with my mom, so it works out._

 _Occasionally one of us makes a remark about what we're reading— in my case, usually a complaint as to how ridiculous a word problem is— but the rest of the time, the only sound is the very quiet ticking of the clock, which I sometimes become aware of for no particular reason besides boredom. The sights around me aren't something I bother to take in, as I know them all by heart already. The brown leather of the couch, the smudges on the glass coffee table, the perpetually turned-off TV screen, the way Agamya's hair falls into place with her head towards the floor and her feet towards the sky… none of it is new to me. I've observed it all before, so I don't bother observing it again._

 _As my head fills with problems and answers, the world around me slowly becomes as irrelevant as the TV screen. As far as I'm aware, only two things exist: numbers, and the slow ticking of the clock._

 _Tick, tock. Tick, tock._

—

 _Go to college in Ninjago City, they said. It will be a valuable learning experience, they said. Well, here I am. Not many things are able to frustrate me. The pace that my classes are moving? That frustrates me. I like having free time as much as the next guy, okay? But I've hardly learned ANYTHING from these college courses, besides how bothersome other people can be. Especially older people who think they know everything just because they're professors and aren't willing to listen to their students' ideas. I offer a helpful suggestion in bioengineering ONE time…_

 _I sigh and erase a portion of the blueprints I'm working on. They aren't for class— I'm completely caught up on all of my homework and I'm ahead of schedule for a big project. So I've been forced to put all my creative energy into my own projects, which one might think I'd be used to because of all my years being homeschooled. Except without any sort of given guidelines, structures, or goals to work towards, I'm not really sure what I'm doing with most of those projects. I pull out a long contraption that looks like a rod with several gears skewered on, which is actually pretty much all it is. It doesn't do anything except give me something to fidget with when I'm impatient, like now. I built it myself specifically for that purpose._

 _I stare down at the blueprints again. Right now they resemble some sort of mechanical bird. Not really sure why I'd need a robot bird. Frustrated, I slide those blueprints back into a folder on the desk and pull out a different set. These prints are for a cube which has a special type of AI I've been developing— one that can learn things through real life experiences, not just through altered coding. It's much more complex than most of the machinery I've built, though, so I'm not sure when I'll be able to complete it (if ever). I thought college would help me with stuff like this. I'd hoped having live professors teaching me instead of just my mom or textbooks would be beneficial to the growth of my already pretty extensive knowledge, but alas, the many people who said it would be had turned out to be wrong._

 _My dorm room— which is tiny and barely furnished— is completely silent, all but for the ticking of the hand-me-down clock on the wall. Silence doesn't bother me when there's other stuff to fill my head, but as is, this ticking is going to drive me crazy. It's repetitive and loud and if I decided to be irrational about it, I'd probably think it was mocking me for how long I was taking to figure this stupid cube out._

 _Tick, tock. Tick, tock._

—

 _"Are you sure about this?" a female voice asks._

 _I know I should be patient, but at this point, I'm sick and tired of patience. We've been talking in circles for the past two hours and I'm sick and tired of it. I'm annoyed that my idea is being questioned as if I haven't already thought through all the odds and ends of it, I'm frustrated that the one person who I thought would be excited for me is instead worrying like a little kid, and I'm angry that there seems to be zero sympathy considering everything I've just been through. So I snap._

 _"Agamya, what is WITH you lately? I'm nineteen years old and I've already graduated from one of the most prestigious colleges in Ninjago with a doctorate degree. A DOCTORATE, Agamya. Do you really think I don't know what I'm doing?!"_

 _My childhood friend— who's changed a lot in appearance but not much in demeanor— bites her lip. She clutches her bookbag to her chest as if she's just said something wrong, which she has._

 _"Sanjay, you know that's not what I meant. I know better than anyone that your designs for the structure are flawless. I trust that your blueprints are solid in theory and they'll probably even translate well into reality, and that's saying a lot considering that you're going to go live in a TREE in the middle of the forest. That's not the part that concerns me."_

 _"Well what is, then?" I retort, a little louder than intended. Thankfully, it's nighttime and the park is empty except for us and some onlooking ravens. I chose the location and time because I thought it would be an exciting way to reveal my genius idea, but clearly, that's not happening._

 _"I'm just— I'm just worried about you," I hear her argue, and my throat tightens up a little. She's trying not to cry, I can tell from her voice. But that's not my problem. I force myself to stop worrying about it. She has a good mind, but she's too emotional, and she lets those emotions get in the way of logical processing._

 _"I don't think living by yourself in complete isolation is a good idea for you right now," she continues, trying to steady her voice._

 _"Why not? I've lived that way the rest of my life, it's not going to be any different now!" I exclaim. I hold my folder full of blueprints defensively, like she's going to snatch them away. Inside are some of the most complicated, well thought-out structures I've ever designed, including a hollow metal house in the shape of a tree that will blend in with the surrounding forest._

 _"Sanjay, please, listen to me! I know you're upset about your mom, but this isn't a good way to deal with—"_

 _"_ ** _THIS ISN'T ABOUT MY MOM!_** _" I yell back. The ravens around us fly away, startled, and the park falls into complete silence. Agamya's lip quivers, but she takes a deep breath and after collecting herself, answers me with a shaky voice._

 _"Fine. If this is what you think is best, go ahead. But if you change your mind, please tell me. I can find you a place in the city that will be quiet enough for you to focus on your work, or even somewhere in town—"_

 _"There is no place in any town that's isolated enough. A town is, by definition, a densely populated area, generally larger than a village and smaller than a city. And 'densely populated' is the OPPOSITE of what I'm trying to accomplish." I sigh and set down the folder in desperation. "Why can't you see what I'm trying to do here?! This is going to be the PERFECT living situation for me. Nobody to bother me while I work, not so dangerous that it's risky to build a house, plenty of edible plants and clean water nearby, nature to study everywhere … it's even close enough to the town so that I can take occasional trips to sell my wares and get supplies, of which I will probably need a lot."_

 _Agamya is silent. She looks down at the ground and closes her eyes. Small water droplets start to form in the corners of them, and she no longer makes an effort to stop them from falling. I'm not heartless, but honestly, at this point, I'm too frustrated to care._

 _"I can't be happy with your decision," she whispers, "but I can't stop you from going, either. When are you leaving?"_

 _"As soon as possible. I won't be able to move out until the main structure is finished, but I plan to start construction tomorrow, and I'm going to be very busy working on it," I reply, and I notice that my hands are shaking slightly. I don't know why. I'm not sad. I have no reason to be. Maybe they're shaking from anger. There is an awkward silence._

 _"Goodbye, then," she finally says, and her eyes lock onto mine as she somehow tries to convince me one last time to stay without saying anything._

 _"Goodbye," I reply, trying hard to reign in my angry voice and be gentle, or at least professional. I'm about to add my well wishes for her future— after all, she's intelligent, too, and I'm sure she'll eventually do something with her knowledge— but she turns around and walks away before I have the chance. Her pace is brisk but her gait is awkward and uneasy, as if she has a hurt leg. I watch her walk through the dark, quiet park until she reaches the sidewalk, which is lit by a several of a new invention called streetlights. Comfortable enough that she's safe and knows her way home, I turn away, pull out my blueprints again, and readjust my spectacles. I can't actually make out any of the writing in the dark, but I already know what everything says, and I like looking at the results of my hard work. Soon the results will be even more solid than the paper I hold in my hands._

 _I'm about to leave when a sudden, completely random realization hits me. Agamya's eyes have always been green, but just moments ago while I was arguing with her they looked blue. I frown to myself, firstly because I don't know why the thought even came to mind and secondly because it makes no logical sense. Eye colors can change, but usually not so drastically, and I'm fairly certain they almost always go from lighter to darker, not the other way around. I suppose my own eyes could've reflected off of hers while we were talking, but that would've made more sense if she were the one wearing glasses instead of me— and there would've had to have been a light source, anyhow. It's not possible that I could've analyzed wrong the first time, was it? I've known her since I was thirteen. Surely I would've caught my mistake sooner. My eyebrows furrow in confused frustration and I decide to drop the subject, since it's bringing me nothing but negative feelings and I don't see why I need to solve it in the first place. I start to leave the park and walk the opposite direction Agamya left, heading back to my own pad._

 _Tick, tock. Tick, tock._

 _I'm so accustomed to the noise that it doesn't even occur to me as I leave that there is, in fact, no clock nearby._

—

(A/N: Well you only need the light when it's burning low, only miss the sun when it starts to snow, I didn't mean to make this fic an OC show… X'D Flashbacks are fun to write but nerve-wracking to post. Reviews are reassurance to my muse. XP) (Also, the title was originally gonna be something different [can you believe it] but hECK YEA SYMBOLISM /AND/ CALLBACKS TO THE SHOW)


	13. Ice Cream

I woke up in a cold sweat, which wasn't unusual after a Night of Flashback. Sighing, I sat up and rubbed my eyes, quickly putting the events of my life out of my mind. They were replaced by several new observations, which came in quick succession to each other. First of all, the space beside me in the bed was empty, as usual, but second of all, there was a sad lack of breakfast scents coming from the kitchen, which made the first object more intriguing. Thirdly, the room was unnaturally quiet, and I realized that the clock on the wall wasn't ticking: it must have run out of batteries. I'd have to get some new ones later. And finally, I realized that there _was_ muted noise in the room, but rather than familiar ticking it was the sound of voices coming from the hall, presumably arguing.

I rolled over in bed, not wishing to deal with Garmadon and Morro's quarrels so early in the morning. However, I was suddenly aware that if I fell back asleep I might start dreaming again, and that was enough to drag me back out from under the covers. Making sure not to hit my head on the lamp, I sleepily walked over to my lab coat, slipped it on, and headed down the hallway.

As expected, Morro and Garmadon were in the living room arguing. Garmadon stood angrily with his hands on his hips, and Morro sat on the couch with a paper bowl of ice cream in his lap.

"Morro, I swear to the maker of plastic bricks, if you don't put that away right now…" The Sensei's words trailed off as he noticed me and turned to face me. His face turned pale.

"Doctor Julien, my profuse apologies. I tried to make the boy stop, but he—"

"His name's Sanjay, remember?" Morro corrected him. Surprisingly, he seemed the calmer out of the two at the moment. "Hmm… tan-jay… plan-jay… lifespan-jay…" he mused. Then, grinning and snapping his fingers, he exclaimed, "Ooh! Man-Jay! Get it? 'Cuz you're like Jay but older?"

"I'm afraid Garmadon's already beat you to that premise," I said, rubbing my eyes, "But the rhyming factor is a nice touch. Now, would you care to explain why you two are fighting?"

"Isn't that obvious?" Garmadon asked gruffly, and pointed a finger to the bowl of ice cream on Morro's lap. Morro lifted a spoonful and ate it without breaking eye contact.

"Hmm… I see an old man eating ice cream for breakfast. Interesting," I said, my tone condescending. Then a smile spread across my face. "Not what I expected to see, but if there's any of that left, I think I shall join you. And then there will be _two_ old men eating ice cream for breakfast!" Garmadon looked shocked and Morro broke out in a huge grin.

"Yea, I left a lot! The rest is in the freezer. And I'm not old," he said, cheerfully putting another spoonful into his mouth. He made a face of victory at his rival, who was still looking at me like I was crazy. Smiling to myself, I walked to the kitchen to get my own bowl of "breakfast," calling back over my shoulder as I went, "Oh, and don't get any of that on the couch," in as casual a tone as one might tell another to watch their step.

"You got it, Doc," he responded, and I caught a glimpse of him saluting me before I exited the room. Garmadon hurried out and followed me.

"What were you thinking?!" he asked me once we were at the fridge.

"The boy did pay for it with his own credit, and as I told you, there's no such thing as nutritional value in the Departed Realm," I commented back, and started making myself a bowl of the desert. I'd never switched around my meals before, but I felt kind of giddy doing so, like I was a little kid playing a prank.

"No, not that!" he cried, then added, "Well, ok, that too. But I'm talking about letting Morro eat ice cream."

"For the duration I've seen him, he's eaten plenty of sugar. He almost ate an entire plateful of cookies in one sitting when he first came over," I pointed out. "Also, he usually seems off-kilter in the mornings, and while I do enjoy that, he seems more like his usual self having eaten already."

Garmadon sighed and shook his head sadly, as if watching a young, optimistic man march bravely into a war against an unbeatable army. "Well, for some reason, ice cream and that boy don't mix. We passed an ice cream vendor while we were still looking for our houses— before we found you— and… well…" He shuddered. "I hope he's doing better now."

"The vendor, or Morro?" I asked, a touch confused.

"Well, the vendor, but now that you mention it, both." He glanced around the kitchen and then started heading out. "I'm going to go read in the bedroom until the storm blows over, if you don't mind."

 _Clever analogy,_ I thought to myself. "Feel free. But aren't you going to eat before you go? You usually make us a feast, I'd think you'd at least want _something_ to hold you until lunch."

"My apologies for not cooking anything, I was—" he hesitated. "I haven't been feeling so well lately. Last night was a rough sleep for me. I'm not exactly hungry. Hard to believe, hm?" He laughed weakly. My stomach dropped. Of course— most of Garmadon's life had been spent as an evil overlord. Those couldn't be great memories to relive.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to— I understand," I said quickly, and hurried out with my bowl of ice cream in hand. Morro was still on the couch. He grinned and bowed over-dramatically when he saw me coming.

"Hello, Doc. Care to join me in my feast?" he asked, moving aside on the couch. He seemed very cheerful, and even if it was the ice cream's doing, I wasn't about to complain.

"I shall, thank you," I said in the same over-dramatic fashion, and took a seat next to him. "How was your night?"

"It was fine, good sir. I was awake for a large part of it, so I spent the time… um…" He tried to think of a fancy way to say his next line. "Endowing myself in literature."

A grin broke out on my face. "You continued your book, I presume?"

He nodded. "Indeed. It is full of adventure and intrigue. Very much a young person's sport."

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Well then, this young man is delighted to hear that." I took a bite out of my ice cream and we both went quiet for a while to eat.

"So what's the plan for today?" he asked, breaking character.

"I hadn't really thought of anything, although perhaps if there's time to be spent alone I may start work on a project. Why, was there something in particular you'd like to do?" I responded.

"Well…" He hesitated. "I'm actually kinda close to finishing that book, and it's _sorta_ interesting enough for me to want to keep reading it. I actually was just taking a break to eat, so…"

I thought I might break my face smiling. "Say no more. I'll leave you be. But I expect a full book report when I come back," I teased, and headed down the hall to the bedroom. When I arrived, Garmadon lay on the bed absorbed in his own reading.

"The 'storm' outside is calmly absorbed in the stories of vigilante dragons, I think it's safe to go out when you want to. Do you mind if I sketch in here a while?" I asked, trying to alert Garmadon of my presence without startling him. He looked up.

"Sure thing. I didn't know you liked to draw," he responded.

"W-well, these are blueprints," I said, pulling out a pencil and some blank parchment from a desk.

"Hm. What for?" he asked.

I smiled. "I guess you'll see when I'm done."

He laughed a little and turned back to his book. I took a deep breath and started making very light marks on the paper, knowing I'd probably need several drafts before I transferred the prints over to actual blue paper. Trying to recreate what I'd made so long ago, I ran the pencil over the paper repeatedly, watching as the plans slowly took shape. It was much easier altering blueprints that I'd already memorized than coming up with them entirely from scratch.

In about half an hour's time, the basic form of the sketch in front of me was apparent. Staring back at me from the parchment was a small falcon, with intricate inner workings of metal. However, unlike the original designs which I was drawing from, this falcon was much more apparent as a machine than the first. Feathers of metal resembled scales more than anything, and glowing purple eyes were of a color unnatural for any living bird. I did not intend to recreate the original falcon— _it_ was still alive and well in Ninjago. No, this was not the first falcon. Rather, this would be its counterpart: a companion for it when, hopefully far in the future, it made its home in this realm.

I continued to tweak the design, allowing some of the feather-scales to reveal the wiring underneath while the bird was in flight. The mechanical approach wasn't a typical design choice for me— and I did experiment with making it more lifelike— but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't heavily influenced by another certain creation, whom I had yet to meet but had seen glimpses of via the Departed Lanterns.

"There you are, my friend," I said, finishing the beak with the last few gentle strokes of my pencil. Garmadon looked over at me and I blushed a little at forgetting that I wasn't alone in the room.

Quietly, I turned back to my work. _She needs a name,_ I thought to myself. I couldn't very well call her "the raven," as that may get confusing in the future. I leaned back in my chair from my work and thought for a good amount of time. As I planned to make her a companion of my own until the rest of her family joined us, I didn't want to give her too elaborate or complicated of a title.

 _Tiya,_ I finally wrote next to the sketches I'd created. I held up my work to the light, satisfied. She'd need many more alterations, of course, and I'd have to make sure my modifications were functional outside of theory. But it felt good to have something physical to work on again. I already had plenty of metal in my bottom drawer, but I'd have to pick up some of the specialized parts at the store soon. Perhaps that could be done today.

Suddenly, there was a loud _CRASH!_ from down the hallway. I looked up, startled. Garmadon looked over at me gravely and spoke in his it's-the-end-of-the-world voice.

"Sounds like the brewing storm just spilled over."

—

(A/N: Uhh not much to say for this chapter [for once] except thank you all SOOO much for your support of the previous chapter; I was really nervous about how it'd be received and your nice reviews made my day! ^^ )


	14. Blueprints

"Where's Morro?"

I looked up from my drawings and scanned the horizon, then shrugged nonchalantly to Garmadon, who was sitting on the bench beside me. Both of us looked like we'd come straight out of a marathon or a boxing match— while we weren't physically harmed in any way, our appearances could really only be summed up on one word: tattered. And tired. And taxed. Okay, I suppose was more than one applicable word, as long as it started with the letter T. Regardless, Garmadon and I had smiles on our faces, relieved to at last be sitting in peace after the long and brutal walk to the park. My poor blueprints (which I was currently transferring onto proper blue gridded paper) would probably have been torn to shreds, had I not kept them safely tucked underneath my lab coat.

Suddenly, a blur of green streaked past, followed several seconds afterward by a hoard of smiling, sweating children of varying heights and speeds. One or two dropped behind the pack, letting their fatigue take over, but a raspy teenage voice taunted them onwards.

"YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ME, YOU SCURVY COWARDS! YE BE DEALING WITH TH' MOST FEARED PIRATE IN THE LAND, CAPTAIN MORRO, THE SAILER OF THE SKY! GIVE UP NOW BEFORE I CAUSE A HURRICANE!" The dialogue was followed by mimic-pirate laughter and a few defiant shouts from the oddly assembled band of children. Garmadon glanced over at me.

"Found him," he commented casually, and returned to his book, which he was making surprisingly fast progress on. I tucked my blueprints inside my coat and chose to watch the passing spectacle.

"You'll never get away with this, Captain Morro!" shouted one brave lad at the front of the pack. Sweat ran down his brow so heavily that even I could see it from my resting spot several yards away, but he didn't seem out of energy in the slightest. "Give back the treasure or we'll have to fight you!"

"Yeah!" shouted another girl, catching up from the back of the crowd. She was another one of the taller kids who had an advantage in the game due to their age. She tossed a broken branch to the boy, which he brandished at Morro confidently. The Master of Wind laughed and shook his head, still flying out of reach of the children.

"I warned ye not to mess with me! Now ye shall face the consequences! THE WRATH OF THE SEA IS UPON YOU!" He raised his hands dramatically and starting swirling them around. The gang of children shrieked as a small tornado formed in front of them— small being about the size of a tree. "Captain Morro" laughed and zoomed through the air as the kids tried to dodge the harmless gusts of wind, which occasionally focused on one victim and messed up their hair or clothes. I felt a small twang of empathy for all those who would need to restyle their hair later, although it was nice knowing that in the Departed Realm, none could fall out.

"Get him, Captain Twain!" I caught a shyer voice nervously exclaim to the leader of the kids. I glanced upward, then did a double-take upon seeing that the voice came from a young boy with short black hair and rectangular glasses. It was the child that I'd caught spying on me two days ago. I watched him intently: he seemed to be highly enjoying the game, and wishing to vocalize his excitement, but his shyness mostly overrode his youthful energy. While he ran about aimlessly to dodge one of the mini-tornados (of which there were now many), I tried to estimate his age. He appeared to be about seven years old, but from the way his eyes pierced through everything around them, I thought it highly probable that he was an old soul. Whether figuratively or literally or both, I couldn't yet determine.

The noises faded as Morro and the children moved on to another section of the park, which was by now a perfectly normal occurrence. They'd been running in circles for… well, long enough that the original number of children he'd rounded up had grown considerably, and that was despite the number of kids that had to leave for one reason or another. I wondered if the game might not go on all day— though, looking down at my blueprints and then at my peacefully relaxing companion, I decided that might not be the worst case scenario. As temporary silence fell upon us once again, I took my white pencil back up and continued to transfer designs over to the still-crisp blue paper. The texture of that paper was etched into my memory permanently, to the point where the nostalgia of it had almost faded into meaninglessness because there were too many memories and too many emotions associated with it for any particular one to stand out. However, I still didn't catch myself in time before I slipped off into a short spell of reminiscing.

That paper was what had first caught my attention as a young child, when the thin white papers of my books had been already been read over and over again and I sought out something else to do. That paper was what had occupied me for hours on end after tiresome five-hour classes which could have easily been taught in two, and _during_ the parties and awards ceremonies I'd been forced to attend, which had been few and far between. That paper was what drew me away from my home and into the forest where I was to spend the majority of my life, during which that specific shade of blue had been almost all that I saw. That paper was the birthplace of my greatest invention— my son, Zane, who was associated with almost every single positive memory in my lifetime. That paper was the spawning point of the falcon, which served both personal and practical uses and still continued to do so back in Ninjago. That paper had been my only company while I was stranded as a prisoner in the lighthouse, and the tool which for over a decade spawned only two types of projects: evil or failed. That paper had accompanied me even into my dying days, when I would frequently glance up from it and open my mouth to try to enter conversation with one or more of the others, only to bail and retreat quickly back into the safety of my work.

I shook my head, reprimanding myself gently for dozing off into my memories when it wasn't necessary— but then a thought struck me. Might my spell of daydreaming not be finished quite yet? After all, that blue paper had been the mark of my lifetime— the texture had accompanied me as frequently as the sound of the ticking clock— but it was now resting in my lap, with fresh pencil marks and ideas brandishing its surface. I slowly took in this fact, then started to smile to myself. This paper did not have the symbol of my past. True, the memories of the past would remain linked to those blue grids forever, but I would make new memories to go with them. Soon, the excitement of Tiya's birth would be added to the melting pot of emotions— and who was to know what might come next? Departed folk may not have had any apparent need for inventions, but _I_ still had within me the need to invent. And whether that was a good or a bad thing was entirely up to me. The thought may have been simple, but it astounded me to actually dwell on— as one of my more favored college professors had once said, "What is obvious to the average person is often a shocking discovery to the genius."

"Something bothering you?"

I looked up, startled out of my thoughts. Garmadon's voice had always sounded gruff to me, despite most of his words being peaceful and his tone gentle as a lamb.

"No, not at all. I suppose I just drifted off," I said, reassuring him with a smile that I was all right. He nodded and stretched.

"Fair enough. I caught myself losing focus a couple times, as well," he responded, and settled back into his original position. He seemed very content with sitting in silence, and after the racket that it had taken to drag Morro away from the house and to the park, I didn't blame him. That boy had enough energy to fuel a modern, power-draining, inefficient nindroid for days. I had almost considered purchasing a leash to present to him as a joke, but decided against it as I couldn't be sure that Garmadon wouldn't take the idea seriously.

I turned back to my precious blueprints and continued transferring things proportionally to the paper. Until the next round of children yelling faintly in the distance, the only sounds to be heard were the brittle pencil against its paper, the rhythmic flipping of pages, and the occasional rustling of the leaves as Morro's faraway game caused a butterfly effect of wind to pass through our area.

—

(A/N: HI first off I'm super sorry if it feels like I've been emphasizing Dr. Julien's past too much, I swear that was not my intention and if things go according to plan, soon the focus will shift to Garmadon and Morro X"D Uhhh hope you enjoyed the chapter, reviews are great, seriously I can't express how much they help my stress levels when I'm freaking out over my writing... Like I am now, which is why I might seem a little off. Fun fun. l'D See you guys next chapter, until then I'll be crying in the corner over plastic bricks, colorful toy horses, and fully grown lawyers. Peace out.)


	15. Phases (pt 1)

(A/N: A two-parter?! Wow, that wasn't supposed to happen until way later. X'D Anyway… just a fair warning, this chapter gets a little angsty. Or a lot angsty. I don't know, you decide. More importantly, though, thank you SOOOOO much for your nice comments on the last chapter! I'm sorry I couldn't get back to everyone, but seriously, they made me feel so much better about myself and about writing the next chapters. It seriously means so much to me when people tell me they like my stuff that I can't put it into words [ironically...] Basically, you guys rock! Anyhow, without further ado, let the chapter commence!)

—

 _Today is the day. It's been six years since I moved into the treehouse, and a lot has changed. I don't regret my decision to move: in fact, the living situation has worked perhaps even better than expected. Since I built a security robot to ward off treehorns, the forest has been peaceful— the ideal state to work on inventions. I love it here. The beautiful scenery is a continual source of inspiration, and although I've passed it nearly every day of my life, I feel as though I haven't actually seen the forest since I was a little kid. I take long walks every day, and I'm working to improve my cooking skills. I've definitely gotten better since I've moved, but I still have a long way to go. The air is clean and fresh and the structure which I live in can be warmed quickly in the winter with a little space heater I built myself. Today is one such winter day, but the heater isn't on. Instead, I am bundled up in a few extra layers of warm clothing: I'm going into town today. I take trips every two months or so to buy supplies and sell what I've built, as well as visiting every Day of the Departed to join the festivities and buy a lantern for my mom. Today is just a business trip, but it's different because there's also something I've been meaning to do for about six years now. There's someone I owe an apology to._

 _I walk at a brisk pace: a light snow is falling, and although I know my way back by heart, I don't want the snow to soak through the pack on my back and damage my wares. I have a lot of gadgets with me today, including the AI cube I've been working on. That one's not for sale, but the villagers like to see how much progress I've made on it. The town as a whole actually seems to have grow nicer in the time that I've moved, and I don't know if it's because there are more children or just because I only see the best side of people now or what. I don't really care— the change is pleasant either way._

 _I hurry my pace further. I'll enjoy the scenery more on the way back. For now, I focus my sights ahead, eager to show off my wares to the town. And to see Agamya, of course— I see her every trip back, but I've never actually apologized for the fight we had all those years ago. She's probably forgotten about it anyhow— she seems like her old, bubbly self every time I visit— but I'll feel better myself once the deed is done._

 _I see the town up ahead and continue forward eagerly, my pack bouncing up and down as I walk. Ah! I see one of the townsfolk— if I am correct, she's Mrs. Brown now, although last time I saw her she was Ms. Grisham._

 _"Hello!" I call with a friendlier than normal wave. The woman turns around and I stop on a dime: something is wrong. She looks terrified to see me, but pretends not to notice and quickly turns back to whatever she is doing. I frown. Perhaps something happened to her while I was gone that she would rather not talk about. However, as I take the path into the marketplace, I am proven wrong: every single person I see has a similar look on their face. They all turn towards each other the moment they see me coming, and whisper as if I can't hear them. I pretend not to notice, but pick up snippets of their conversations as I walk down the aisle of vendors uncomfortably._

 _"Look, it's him!"_

 _"Does he know—"_

 _"It's been two months since he was here."_

 _"Who's going to tell him?"_

 _"Shhh, he can hear us!"_

 _I frown and my eyebrows crease, forming worried wrinkles over my face. I see Ms. Kathryn, the town gossip, standing alone at the end of the path, setting up her own shop next to a tree. I head her direction, knowing she'll be able to give me the scoop on what's happened or happening. As I approach, a very slow-moving, vague sense of dread starts creeping up on me from behind, like the shadow of a starving treehorn ready to devour._

 _"Ms. Kathryn?" I ask. She spins around and freezes upon seeing me. The same look everyone else already bears falls upon her face. More worried than before, I put my hands up in a surrendering position, thinking that perhaps the townsfolk think me dangerous for some reason. I can't for the life of me think of any way I appear different today than on any other visit._

 _"Ms. Kathryn, are you okay? What's going on?" I ask worriedly. She hesitates, and looks back and forth like a criminal caught at the crime scene. The rest of the town has gone completely silent, and I feel everyone's eyes watching us._

 _"O-oh… u-um, hello, Dr. Julien," she says, trying to fake a casual tone of voice. That only makes me even more nervous. Ms. Kathryn was always eager to tell me whatever was going on, even the things that the other townsfolk would rather keep hidden._

 _"Can you tell me what's happened?" I ask, my forehead wrinkling even further with worry. She stays silent. She never stays silent. Something is very, very wrong. But nobody here is talking. Who else can I get information from? Ah, I know._

 _"Where's Agamya?" I ask._

 _Ms. Kathryn looks like I've just aimed a gun at her. I don't understa—_

 _Suddenly, the shadow of fear from before materializes in full force, the metaphorical treehorn snapping its jaws down on me before I even have a chance to seizes every bone in my body and all caution and logic is thrown by the wayside. Within a split second, I feel myself grab the woman in front of me and slam her against the tree like a cop demanding information._

 _"WHERE IS SHE?!" I scream. This isn't happening. This can't be happening. Please, please, let me be wrong, don't let her be hurt, don't let her be—_

 _"Sh-she's p-probably in N-Ninjago City by now," Ms. Kathryn squeaks. I blink several times as I take that statement in._

 _"She… she moved?" I ask, trying to keep my voice calm as my heart rate starts to drop from three thousand BPM. Ms. Kathryn nods meekly and shuts her eyes tight, as if I'm going to hurt her. I suddenly realize that I'm holding her against a tree and quickly let go, my arms and hands trembling terribly._

 _"Th-thank the maker of— I thought you— I thought she was—" I stammer. As my heart rate descends rapidly from the momentary shock and I try to calm my nerves, the meaning of what HAS happened, and not just what HASN'T happened, hits me._

 _"Wait, she moved?" I frown. "W-when? Why?" Ms. Kathryn shifts uncomfortably. I'm suddenly aware of just how many other people are watching us, wide-eyed and silent. I turn around and address them._

 _"Come on, don't scare me again. What happened?"_

 _A man to my left clears his throat and speaks up. "She left about a week ago. We thought she was gonna wait one more week, but…"_

 _"She woke up in the middle of the night and packed all her things. The next morning, she bid her goodbyes and left before breakfast," another woman interjects._

 _"Wha— why?!" I ask, trying to absorb all the information at once._

 _"Nobody really knows why. The date of her departure had been set for a long time, and then she changed it on a whim," the first man says. Something clicks inside my brain._

 _"Wait, what do you mean it's been set for a long time? How long?" I ask suspiciously. All the townsfolk shift their feet or pretend to be preoccupied with something else. Ms. Kathryn's voice from behind startles me._

 _"Almost six months," she whispers sadly. I whirl around and blink in surprise._

 _"B-but— I've visited before then. Why didn't she tell me?" I cry. Suddenly, I realize something else. "Why didn't the rest of YOU tell me?"_

 _"I'm sorry, lad. We were forbidden," a male voice says quietly. The others in the crowd start gaining enough courage to continue, finishing each other's sentences like some form of hive mind._

 _"It was the only thing Agamya ever asked for. We couldn't deny the girl her wish."_

 _"Our silence, she would say, was her only comfort."_

 _"That and Cecilia."_

 _Cecilia is one of Agamya's friends, although I personally hardly know her. I scan for the brown-haired girl in the crowd; she's standing a few vendors down, clutching a sack of spending money uncomfortably._

 _"Cecilia?" I ask. She looks up, bites her lip, and steps forward while quiet whispers start once again circulating through the crowd. Why are they whispering? I try to ignore them and address her directly._

 _"What's this all about?"_

 _The girl's eyes suddenly well up with tears. She knows what's happened, I can tell._

 _"Agamya's been happy for as long as I can remember," I persist. "What happened to make her want to move? And why would she keep something so big from me!?"_

 _Cecilia is quiet. Why are girls only quiet when you actually want them to talk to you? I'm about to ask again, but she speaks up._

 _"You've only seen her happy because she's only been happy when you've been here," she says in an almost-whisper. "The rest of the time she's been in tears. For far longer than six months, I might add." She looks angry at me. Angry and hurt and sad._

 _"No… that doesn't make sense," I argue. "Nobody can fake happiness that well. Not even Agamya."_

 _"She wasn't faking it, boy," I hear another voice say. An old man from the back steps out and looks at me gravely. "She was happy when you were here. But she was beside herself with grief the rest of the time. Kept promising herself she'd get better. I guess she finally realized she wouldn't if she stayed." The old man's eyes are penetrating, like they're exposing something I have to hide._

 _I'm stuck between sadness, relief, and confusion. Agamya is okay, but she's gone. Why didn't she tell me? Why was she so upset in the first place? Why had she looked so happy every time I'd visited her? Nothing makes sense anymore. I put my hand to my head, a dim headache coming on. I HATE not knowing why things are the way they are, but worse yet is being unable to control the waves of emotions coursing through my veins. I feel like a piece of machinery missing a piece that I can't function without._

 _I'm silent for a few moments. The townspeople look around nervously, as if unsure whether or not to carry on their conversations. I'm suddenly stricken with a feeling of not wanting anybody to look at me. I've never liked crowds, but they're usually annoying— not scary. All my internal wiring feels crossed and frayed, and the emotions traveling through the wires are getting mixed up with each other._

 _"Oh," I finally manage to say, though I'm pretty sure it's apparent from my expression that I'm still figuring things out. I pause. "Well… I'm going to set up shop." I desperately hope that the crowd realizes that's supposed to be a cue to continue on as normal. People look around at each other with odd looks on their faces, but they seem to get the hint. The normal bustle of the marketplace slowly builds up as people start whispering to each other about me and talking out loud about the snowy front moving in from the forest. I walk slowly to my usual spot— an empty table next to Ms. Kathryn's— and start setting my wares on the table like I always do. Everything happened so fast. I feel confused and empty inside, like a puppet being moved by strings. I'm going through the normal motions, but I don't feel anything anymore. My self-defense reflexes, upon being unable to make sense of my emotions, have shut them off completely. I know they'll come back later, but I'll deal with them at the treehouse. Not here in the noise of the marketplace. I can't make sense of anything while other people are around._

 _It's only a few minutes after I've finished setting up that I hear an excited whisper moving through the crowd. I look up surprised, eager to see what's changed the tone of the crowd so drastically. Some excitement might help my mind to stay off Agamya longer._

 _I'm soon able to see what the source of the whispers is: visitors from another town have come to browse the vendors. That happens occasionally, and given that our town is so small, it's always a thrilling occurrence. But these visitors look even more foreign than those of the towns from across the fields— I can hardly believe my eyes, but they look like they're from the city. A rather rich-looking man browses the food vendors a few tables down, and a pretty lady with a bit of extra weight— presumably his wife— follows closely behind him. The whispers of the onlookers grow louder and more frequent, until they almost match the level of the casual conversations the people nearest the travelers are having. I myself watch the city-dwellers intently, hoping that maybe they'll drop by. After a few minutes, they do._

 _"Hello, there," the man says, approaching my table and extending his hand politely. "What's your name?"_

 _"Doctor Julien, at your service," I say, shaking it. His handshake is very firm. I'm not exactly sure how to deal with city folk, but the man looks pretty friendly. "What's yours?" I ask._

 _"Lux," he responds. "Lux M. Borg. So what are you selling? This doesn't look like most of the other stands."_

 _I smile a little at his compliment. "It's not. See, I'm an inventor." Suddenly, I feel a hot wave of shame press over me, as if I've just told a lie, even though I haven't. Without thinking much, I quickly amend my statement. "Well— I'm more of a tinkerer. I just mess around and build what I like, you see." I look down and bite my lip so I'll stop talking._

 _"Interesting…" he says, sounding genuinely intrigued, and picks up one of my wares from the table. "It all right if I take a look at this?"_

 _"Y-yes, of course," I say, noticing that his wife is also approaching._

 _"Honey, look at this," he tells the woman, showing her the invention he's picked up. She looks delighted and joins him in inspecting it. If luck is on my side, they'll actually buy something and I can get something else from one of the other vendors._

 _"I'm also working on building more practical inventions, like heaters," I add, then quickly continue, "Although I suppose you won't be in town that long."_

 _"No, I'm afraid not," the man says with a smile, and he puts his arm around his wife. "We're getting our traveling fix while we can, as we're going to be stuck at home for a while."_

 _"We're expecting," the woman explains cheerfully, and kisses her husband on the cheek._

 _"Oh, so that's why they seem more cheerful than most city dwellers I've heard of!" I think to myself, although of course I don't say that out loud. I also realize that it's probably the cause of the woman's extra weight— although there's not much, so I'm guessing she's only been pregnant for three or four months at most._

 _I continue to converse with the couple and even manage to sell them something for a very generous price on their end. They're very cheerful, and I enjoy talking to them, even if I still feel like I'm a broken machine in some fever dream. They eventually move on from my table and I manage to sell two more of my inventions, both to usual buyers of mine. I use the money to buy a lot of food to take back with me, although I can't buy more than will fit in my pack, and linger for a long time before finally deciding to head back._

 _As I start the slow trek to the big metal tree, the snowfall around me grows heavy._


	16. Phases (pt 2)

_It's been a week since I learned she was gone._

 _"A week," I mutter out loud. Not because there's anyone around to hear it, but to break the deafening ticking of the clock that's become increasingly apparent in the silence. "So why does it feel like a month?"_

 _I sigh and roll over on my bed. The snow is still falling outside; perhaps a walk in the cold will wake me up. Then again, why should I want to wake up? Sleep isn't fun, but it is something. Something other than lying around all day and mindlessly tinkering with my projects, that is. Then again, if I fall asleep, I might have another dream…_

 _That thought gets me out of bed faster than anything else. Before last week, dreaming was rare for me, and I hardly ever remembered my dreams anyhow. But since that fateful day in the town, nightmares of the oddest sort have plagued my mind— nightmares that are perfectly joyful and happy while I'm having them, but cause tears to well up in my eyes as soon as I wake up. I HATE the feeling of tears in my eyes. I hate knowing my emotions have a stronger grip on me than I have on myself. It goes against every form of logic and function; even the dreams themselves are bizarrely tied together in some alternate continuity, which is completely illogical and unusual. I should know— I've reread The Psychology Of Dreaming four times back-to-back since the nightmares started up._

 _I take a step outside and then quickly retreat back to my hideout— it's much colder than I expected. I hesitate, then start heading towards my desk where I frequently work on sketches and blueprints for new inventions. Half-hidden by some pointless chicken scratches from earlier today is a white sheet of paper with a startlingly realistic portrait, only lightly sketched out so far. I take a deep breath and shudder upon seeing it, but I pull it out and pick up a nearby pencil, deciding against my better judgement to continue the piece of art._

 _I have never met the boy whose picture I am drawing, and I am painfully aware that I shall never meet him— for he will never exist. The thought saddens me, and I hate that the thought saddens me, because it is a ridiculous notion to be sad over. I should not grieve over his blond, crew-cut hair, or his beautiful, shining blue eyes, or his innocent, childlike grin— but I do. For I have seen him in my dreams, and I know him by now near as well as I know myself. Even now, awake as I am, I can still hear his laugh playing over in my mind, causing me no end of anguish. I don't understand the way I feel for him, and it distresses me to think I never will. He doesn't exist and he'll never exist, and that's that. I do not even know him, I try to convince myself._

 ** _You know him well._**

 _I tense up, startled, and look around the room— only to realize that nobody could possibly have spoken. I'm only hearing things in my own mind. I've been doing that a lot, lately._

 _"I have no idea who he is," I say out loud, trying to ward off the voice-thoughts even whilst adding strokes to the portrait's hair._

 ** _He is your son._**

 _I'm so startled by the sudden acknowledgement of this fact that I accidentally snap my pencil in half. My hand starts to shake slightly, and I glare at nothing in particular._

 _"He doesn't exist," I repeat, out loud, wondering vaguely if I might be going mad. Maybe I went mad a long time ago._

 ** _He must exist,_** _the voice says. And before I can respond to this demand I find myself gripped with fear and realization— the voice is right. He MUST exist. I do not know how I know such a thing, or why it must be, but the child I have dreamt of must exist at all costs._

 _"It's too late," I hear myself whisper out loud. "I… I cannot change what I have done. Even if I leave now, I know I won't acknowledge my mistakes when the time comes." I steal a glance down at my hand to see if I'm dreaming, but it is clearly defined and I am definitely awake._

 ** _My lineage must not end; the boy must exist. Ninjago is doomed without him._**

 _Now I'm really startled. This isn't the sort of thing I would make up, even while delusional._

 _"Who are you?" I whisper, but now I am speaking without pretensions. I admit to myself that I am speaking to someone or something I cannot see or hear or feel— although I still hate it._

 ** _…He must protect those who cannot protect themselves. One day I shall return to ensure this._**

 _Suddenly, I drop to my knees in a cold sweat. I don't remember having stood up, but there is one thing I am aware of: the presence that has been haunting me for a week— although I've only just spoken to it for the first time— has left. Left me, or departed entirely, I'm not sure._

 _I glance around me fervently. What is to be done? Even as the fate of Ninjago depends on it, my own stubbornness will never break. If I leave my isolated fortress, I will soon convince myself that it has all been a dream, or a delusion brought on by loneliness. I will force myself to forget all that has transpired, but I will live with a terrified suspicion in the back of my mind for the rest of my days. And if the presence ever did return, as it said it will— no, it's simply too late for me to leave now. I know myself too well. I hold my head in my hands and let out a low groan, unable to see a way out of my predicament._

 _Suddenly, a glint catches my eye. I stand back up and look at the portrait I've been working on, but my gaze wanders to the edge of my desk until it lands on a small, abandoned scrap of metal that I haven't had the heart to throw away. My AI cube._

 _A forbidden thought sparks in the back of my mind._

 _"The boy must exist," I whisper to myself, "and I know how to make it happen." My voice grows louder as I make a promise to myself, and perhaps to the mechanical security guard outside and any wildlife that can hear me and is willing to listen._

 _"He is now my only project," I announce in a rather official sort of tone. "Until he is finished, I shall work on nothing else, save for sellable wares to buy material and food. I'll start blueprints today, and not a day will go by that I do not work on the cube. He will be my Magnum Opus, and my constant companion. I will raise him well— as well as a loner and a shut-in like myself possibly can— and I will teach him to protect those who cannot protect themselves. I will do as I have been told."_

 _Hot tears start welling up in my eyes. "And— and I will honor her wishes," I manage to say, although my stomach feels queasy and my voice sounds uneven as the recollection of a particular 'hypothetical' conversation awakens in my mind. "If I could do nothing to treat her well before, I will at least honor her memory now." My voice drops back to a whisper. I close my eyes and, for once, let the tears stream down my face uninterrupted._

 _"His name… shall be Zane."_

* * *

 _After five years, he is finally complete._

 _I have to admit, my heart is almost pounding with excitement, but I admonish myself to stay calm. After all, I want his first memories to be filled with warmth and stability— nothing like the constant clashing of fervent studying with the cold demeanor I had in my younger days. My son will be better than that. My son will be very much like the house I have designed and lived in for now the better part of my life: he will be as natural seeming as I can muster with the use of a metal frame, and inside, his warmth and life will be well past any average human being. After all— though I feel some guilt for it— I intend to raise him so that if at all possible, he might make up for some of the grievances I've caused myself._

 _He's almost done charging, but I know better than to try and switch him on early. Impatience and over-curiosity are vices I've long gotten rid of. Every detail of my most beautiful creation has been meticulously crafted and refined, from his inner wiring to his lifelike synthetic skin that is soft to the touch. His face in particular has taken me many a night to perfect, as I've always wanted it to be exactly accurate to the face I saw in my dreams— although I haven't had such a dream since I started work on him. But he will be a dream no more. Starting today, he will be as real as I am, and no doubt even more full of life. Starting today, I will not be alone, limited in my contact with others through my rare trips to the market and forever avoiding any topic of conversation that has to do with my work. Starting today, I have a new reason to live._

 _A soft beep lets me know that the charging is complete. With rays of sunshine in my heart, I lay my hand on the still boy's chest and gingerly flip the "on" switch, then reach to close his paneling before he wakes up. I suddenly remember I took off my glasses earlier, and reach to put them back on. As I do, I see the boy in front of me stir, and slightly open my eyes. A warmth and pride that I've never felt before in my life rises up inside my chest as I grin and smile down at the creation I've finally brought to life._

 _"Hello, Zane."_

* * *

(A/N: Surprise, I'm alive...! X'D Okay, tbh I have like 500 things to say, but all of them are either apologizing for this chapter not being so good or explaining why I haven't updated in so long, and honestly I don't think any of that will be super beneficial to myself or to my readers... so... um, yea, hope you enjoyed, I hope I'll get back into the swing of things once I'm not sick as frick anymore, annnd y'all have a good day! K bye~) (P.S. My muse would like to thank all of you who have been leaving me reviews; I didn't realize how epic the Ninjago fandom was at reviewing stuff until I tried writing for other fandoms. You guys are apparently superhuman and you all get a gold star.)

(A/N UPDATE: Writing this update on 2/27/18, I made some minor edits so this aligns with the new canon about the previous Master of Ice.)


	17. Ghosts of the Past

I woke up feeling tired and lethargic. Nights of Flashback were like mandatory emotional rollercoasters— too many sudden changes in memories at once. I sat up slowly and rubbed my eyes, wondering why everything was so dark. It took me a moment to gather my bearings, but when I did, I realized it was still very much nighttime. The room around me was extremely hard to make out, especially without my glasses on, but the faint outlines of a few objects were visible. Next to me, an undefined shape shifted slightly. I glanced down at it and smiled a little, having forgotten that Garmadon was with me. As my eyes adjusted to using the moonlight streaming in from the window, I looked at his face.

I was startled by his expression— he grimaced as if he were in pain, and shifted slightly, clenching his blankets tighter to his chest. I hesitated, unsure of what to do. It looked like his flashbacks weren't going any better than mine. Gingerly, I reached out my hand and touched his shoulder, whispering softly to try and wake him up.

"You awake?" It was a dumb question— obviously he wasn't, and if the answer was 'yes' it would be because I woke him up— but I didn't really know what else I was supposed to say.

Garmadon moaned quietly, apparently distressed by something in his dream, and I clasped his shoulder again, a little firmer. This time, he jolted upright, startling me backwards until I almost fell out of the bed.

"Who's there?!" he cried, then paused and took in his surroundings. "O-oh— Sanjay— I'm so sorry—" he reached out and helped me back from the edge of the bed, laughing nervously. "My reflexes are a bit, ahem, extreme, I'm afraid…"

"No, no, you're fine," I said, although inside I was still shaking a bit from the sudden scare. "I wasn't sure how to wake you up. That is, ah…" I paused, suddenly nervous if I'd awoken him for no reason. It was highly possible that his resting face simply looked distraught.

"Well, you did the trick," he said, rubbing his eyes. "So what's wrong?"

Now I was even more nervous. "Ah, I'm terribly sorry, I probably shouldn't have— er, you just looked like you weren't doing so well, is all." I coughed, wondering if some of the anxiety I'd felt in my dreams had leaked back into reality to haunt me.

"O-oh." He looked slightly startled by my statement, but not offended. "Yes, well… I wasn't exactly reliving my fondest moments." He coughed as well. "So, thank you."

"My pleasure," I said, and pleased I was at the fact that I hadn't woken up my partner for naught. After a pause, Garmadon asked,

"So why were _you_ awake? I hope I wasn't sleep-talking."

"No, nothing like that," I assured him. "I woke up on my own. I think these old bones can only take so many flashbacks in one night."

"I feel that," Garmadon sighed, nodding. He rolled his shoulders back and I heard a _crack!_ as he stretched out his muscles. "I'm jealous of the boy. He won't ever have to deal with more than a night or two of these every year."

"Hm? Oh, you mean Morro," I responded. I shifted and adjusted the covers on myself, lying back in a more comfortable position. "Well, that's true, but he's had his share of hard times as well."

There were a couple moments of silence, and I wondered for a moment if Garmadon had gone back to sleep.

"So… ah… what were your flashbacks about?" he asked, turning his head in the darkness to face me. "If you don't mind sharing, that is."

I hesitated. "Oh… just some mistakes I made in my youth," I sighed. "I don't really think about them except during this time of year." I paused again. In the stillness of the night, there seemed plenty of time for all the pauses either of us wanted. "I… had a fight with someone when I was very young, and never apologized for my actions."

"Wow," Garmadon said, seeming surprised. "You don't seem like the kind to quarrel." Then, looking at me again, he added, "Wait, didn't you live in the forest most of your life? Who did you fight with, the birds?"

I snickered, wishing it was so. "A girl."

"Aaaaaah," he said, using his wise-old-sensei voice. We enjoyed another moment of silence, staring up at the ceiling. Then, smiling a little— at least, he looked like he was smiling, but it was still a little hard to tell— he asked, "Think she's in the neighborhood?"

"Huh?" I asked, startled.

"You know. Dead. Do you think she's dead yet?"

I blinked, having never actually considered the possibility before. "I don't know. It has been a long time, though… and I wouldn't know where to start."

"Ah," he replied. "Well… no rush, I suppose." There was a slight hint in his voice that suggested he wasn't quite done with the topic, but I decided to let it be for the moment.

"How about you?" I asked. "What were you dreaming about?"

His tone saddened. "My days as Lord Garmadon… when I knew I'd have to fight Lloyd, in particular."

"Oh." I felt a weight drop in my heart. I couldn't even begin to imagine being in his shoes. I tried to picture being forced to fight Zane and felt sick to my stomach.

"Yea…" he sighed. "I hurt so badly in those days… I just hope Lloyd didn't hurt as much as I did…"

"I'm sure he was proud to have you as his father," I said firmly, remembering some of the conversations I'd had with the boy. "And I know he was thrilled the day the evil in you was purged and he was able to be with you again."

"Ah, I remember that day," he said, with a sigh of happiness. "That was one of the greatest days in my life."

For several minutes, we let the silence speak for us.

"Well, it's not quite time to get up yet…" I said with hesitation.

"Hm… what time is it?" he asked.

I glanced at the clock. "4:30."

"Ah, that's plenty late," he responded with a laugh. "At least, _I_ don't quite feel up to going back to sleep. Of course, if you want—"

"No," I said, getting out of bed despite my cold, achy joints begging me not to, "I'll join you. You feel like teaching an old geezer how to make pancakes?" I asked with a smile.

Garmadon smiled back. "Only if you don't mind an old geezer doing the teaching."

—

(A/N: HI YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE! I didn't have the mental energy to respond to each of your reviews individually, but seriously, know that every single one made me grin like an idiot and fed my muse and cleared my anxiety and- *deep breath* you're all just super amazing okay? I love you all, hope you enjoyed this chapter! I know I sure missed writing the old geezers. Returning to the main storyline feels like a breath of fresh air for me X3)


	18. Pancakes

"Ow!" A voice cried out in the darkness. I winced in sympathy as Garmadon stubbed his toe for probably the third time already.

"Hang on, I'll go get a flashlight," I said quickly, starting to retreat back down the hall. We couldn't risk turning on any lights, as the layout of the house would mean that any light would reach the living room and wake up Morro, who was still almost definitely fast asleep on the couch.

"No, my eyes will adjust. Now, where do you keep your flour?" he insisted, looking around my rather tiny kitchen.

"The cabinet in front of you— yes, that one," I replied as he swiftly grabbed the bag of white powder and started measuring it into cups. "What else do we need?"

"Baking powder, salt, white sugar, butter—" he started listing as if he was reading off a recipe.

"Slow down, I can't move that fast," I said, getting out the ingredients as he listed them. I kept my voice hushed, so as not to wake Morro up in the next room over. Garmadon took the cue and lowered his voice as well.

"Then milk and eggs. And syrup, of course," he finished.

I looked over in surprise. "There are eggs in pancakes?"

Garmadon paused and raised an eyebrow. "Was that a joke…?"

I shook my head sheepishly. "I've always just used the pre-made mix from Trader Godot's. You add water and put it into a pan."

The gray-haired man shook his head in disbelief and started to laugh. "Well no wonder you enjoy my cooking so much! Mixes are fine when you're in a rush, but this is the afterlife! You've got all the time in the world, you really ought to learn to cook from scratch."

I smiled. "Well, that's what you're here for, is it not?"

"Indeed." He nodded and pointed to the fridge. "Could you grab the eggs and crack three into a bowl?"

"All right," I said, following instructions and feeling rather proud of myself that I hadn't yet broken anything in the darkness. Although as I opened the fridge door, an explosion of light flooded the kitchen, blinding both of us momentarily.

"Aaaugh…" I heard Garmadon mutter, rubbing his eyes.

"Sorry," I said, hastily pulling out the carton of eggs and shutting the door. After doing so, the entire kitchen seemed blacker than before, and green and purple spots danced in my vision.

"So much for my eyes adjusting," he muttered, and I heard him grope around on the countertop trying to find the ingredients he'd been working with.

"You sure you don't want me to go get a flashlight?" I asked, hoping I'd be able to find my way back in the darkness.

"Nope, this is a challenge now, and I don't back down on challenges," he said matter-of-factly. I refrained from commenting that he perhaps had more in common with Morro that he would care to admit.

After we'd sifted and mixed all the ingredients together, Garmadon showed me how to pour the right amount of batter and flip the pancakes, which was the only part I really already knew how to do. I didn't reject further instruction, though— it seemed to make the old sensei happy to be teaching again.

After a short while, we'd successfully piled up a stack of pancakes high enough to (hopefully) satiate even the hungriest teenage ghost boy.

"It's still extremely early," I pointed out as I studied our finished handiwork. "I don't think it would be justifiable to wake up Morro just yet… even if it is for pancakes."

"Hm. Then we'll just have to start this feast ourselves," Garmadon said with a smile. "Don't want to waste pancakes, after all. And we can always reheat some when Morro wakes up."

"I like that train of thought," I laughed, carrying a stack over to the table. "Bring over that bottle of syrup, will you?"

"You sure like your syrup," Garmadon said, smirking as he complied with my request. I shrugged.

"I'm a simple man. Give me some tools and a bottle of syrup that's not too sweet and I'll be content for a week," I replied, piling some of the hot food onto my plate. I'd had to discard a few pancakes that I'd accidentally burned, but the rest of them looked pretty darn good— to be honest, I was kind of proud of myself.

Garmadon took a bite of his food first and nodded approvingly. "Now _this_ is how you make pancakes." He waved his fork at me. "Don't you go buying any more mixes, you hear?"

I started on my own food and was delighted at how light and fluffy everything had turned out. It really did beat the pre-made stuff by a mile. "Mmm… as long as you're here to help me cook, we shouldn't have any major problems," I laughed, stuffing another forkful into my mouth.

We ate in silence for the next ten or fifteen minutes, enjoying each other's company as our eyes finally adjusted to the darkness that was ever-so-slowly receding. There was something oddly comforting about the entire atmosphere— a week ago, had somebody told me I would enjoy eating pancakes at five in the morning with a former evil warlord while waiting for a hotheaded teenager to wake up on my living room couch, I would probably have doubted their sanity. But now, it seemed the most natural and comfortable situation in the world. Alas, the wheel of time has a funny way of turning.

"Do you think I should go get Morro?" I finally asked after we'd both had our fill— or at least, our fill for a few hours time.

"Hm… what time is it?" Garmadon started to ask, looking around for the clock. Then he waved off his own question. "Never mind, go wake him. If we have to be awake, the boy can suffer along with us."

"Yes," I laughed in response, "I'll be sure he has his proper share of suffering at the hands of your delicious cooking."

" _Our_ delicious cooking," Garmadon corrected as I went into the living room to fetch Morro. I beamed with pride as I turned the corner and squinted, expecting to see a figure lying on the couch.

"Morro?" I whispered quietly as I approached the makeshift bed with concern. It could've been the dark, but it didn't look like anyone was there. As I got nearer, my suspicions were confirmed by the sight of a pale blue blanket lying on the floor. I felt my eyebrows start to crease in worry. It wasn't like Morro to wake up early, and it definitely wasn't like him to not loudly and obnoxiously announce his presence.

I walked over to the sliding glass doors and breathed a sigh of relief— the teenager was sitting cross-legged outside on the ground, although I had no idea why. Perhaps he was waiting for the sun to rise— if that was the case, he was going to have to wait a little longer. I almost opened the door to say something, but stopped myself as I gripped the handle.

 _Day of the Departed is the day after tomorrow,_ I realized. _What if his Nights of Flashback have begun?_

I took another look at the form outside. The teenager had his head down as if deep in thought and his arms crossed to ward off the cold. I suddenly remembered to wonder why he hadn't brought the blanket with him for the extra warmth— then realized that perhaps he intended to let the cold keep him awake. I hesitated, unsure of whether or not he would want me to catch him in his current state. I decided to turn on some lights in the house first so he'd be alerted of our having woken up: he could decide what to do from there.

"Everything all right?" Garmadon asked as I came back into the kitchen and flipped on a light switch. "AAAUGH… that's really bright…"

"Sorry," I apologized. "It seems that Morro is already awake. He's outside in the backyard."

"Really? That's odd," Garmadon started, but then he fell silent, probably coming to the same conclusion I had.

"I figured I should turn on some lights so he knows he can come in," I explained, eyeing the considerably diminished stack of pancakes on the table and wondering if I should make some more before Morro returned.

"Good idea," the sensei replied with a nod.

I hesitated, then commented, "It's sometimes easy to forget that he died so young."

"Really? Seems to me he won't let us forget it," Garmadon half-chuckled in an awkward sort of way.

"Ah, you know what I mean," I said. I paused, looking at the pancakes on the table and then at the stove and the bowl of batter already ready to be poured. "Okay, I told myself I was done earlier, but…"

Garmadon smiled and held up the bottle next to the stack of pancakes knowingly. "Syrup?"

—

(A/N: Wait hold on I thought I posted this chapter... WOOPS XD Oh well, posting a few hours late won't hurt anyone. XP Hope you enjoyed, and as always, more to come soon meaningprobablywheneverI'mprocrastinatingsomethingelse! Reviews are food for my currently extremely well-fed, happy and healthy muse! Seriously, you guys are awesome ^u^)


	19. Fun & Games

"I gotta hand it to you, doc, I didn't think you knew how to cook!"

I smiled and glanced over at the kitchen, where Morro sat on the table scarfing down what little remained of the previously mile-high stack of pancakes.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to speak with your mouth full?" Garmadon reprimanded, half reading a book and half paying attention to the conversation. I shook my head and laughed while looking through one of the bookshelves for _Heavy Metal: How To Lighten Up Your Flying Machine_.

"Let him compliment me. Although, Morro, I can't say I deserve the praise; it was Garmadon who taught me how to make those pancakes you're so enjoying."

Morro paused for a moment, then shrugged and said, "Okay, so Garma-dull can cook, but _you_ still made these. Although your taste in syrup could be improved…"

Sensing an argument over the rude nickname coming on, I quickly turned around from my search and changed the subject. "Say, would either of you like to play a game? I've been thinking I ought to sharpen up my competitive skills if I'm going to get used to having company."

Morro finished his last pancake and hopped off the kitchen table eagerly. "Sure! If it's a rematch in Cheat that you're after—"

"I'm _not_ playing that again," Garmadon interrupted abruptly. "Not if you brought me back to life and gave me my extra set of arms back."

"You _did_ have a rather unfair aptitude for the game," I conceded, deciding to side with my partner in old age on the particular subject.

"Awww…" Morro pouted. "Well, fine. What about War?"

"That's just pure luck. Card games are no fun if they don't involve skill," Garmadon argued. "Why not something like Expensive Cell?"

"I thought the point of this was to find a game we could play _together,"_ I said, frowning. "Expensive Cell is a one-player game."

"Sanjay's got a point," Morro said. It still took me aback a bit whenever he used my first name— especially if he used it without a nickname. "What about Kiss Mummy?"

"That hardly sounds appropriate," Garmadon chastised.

"No, it's not—" Morro started, then sighed. "Never mind, it's not worth it to have to teach you all the rules if you don't already know how to play."

"Well, we seem to be at a loss for something we all agree on," I sighed.

"Do you have any non-card games?" Garmadon asked. "You know, board games or something?"

I shook my head. "Unfortunately not… Since I never expected company before you two, I never had a reason to buy anything that couldn't be played by myself."

"Ah…" the sensei replied, shaking his head. "Well, perhaps we'll just have to fix that."

Morro perked up. "Are we going shopping?"

I smiled. "I think that's a lovely idea. Have you two even been to Cash Street yet?"

"Oh, I used to go there all the time to window-shop!" the teenager exclaimed. "It was my favorite place to hang out after the first time I died."

"What, did you plan your revenge schemes there?" Garmadon scoffed. "Also, I thought cash didn't exist here. Everything is purchased with credit, right?"

"That it is," I confirmed. "However, I believe 'cash' is supposed to be taken as a verb. As in, 'I'm going to go _cash in_ my credit for some cinnamon cookies.'"

"Aw, that was mean… Now I want cinnamon cookies," Morro moaned.

"Well, you'll have to wait a little longer. Dotted isn't until the day after tomorrow, and I'm not buying anything until the day before," I chuckled. Morro flipped back his hair in annoyance, but didn't say anything.

"I suppose it's settled, then," Garmadon said, getting up from the couch where he had been reading. "Shall we head down to this 'Cash Street'?"

"Let me just grab a few things first," I said, abandoning my quest for the book and deciding to instead look for my blueprints. "I want to have something to work on in case we decide to go out to lunch while we're shopping."

"Is food the only thing ever on your mind?" Garmadon asked semi-teasingly, but Morro was already at the front door, bouncing in excitement.

"Food is what makes the afterlife worth living, Grandpa-don, don't bash it! Now hurry up and find whatever it is you're looking for so we can get going!" The green streak in his hair bobbed up and down with him while he waited impatiently.

"Well, if _you've_ seen my blueprints anywhere—" I started, but then I noticed a blue folder on the coffee table near the couch. "Oh, never mind, here they are." I picked up the work and placed it into a large pocket in my lab coat, which was designed for the exact purpose of keeping my work close to my person at all times. I'd perhaps been a bit paranoid during my life.

"Let's head out, then," Garmadon said as we walked to the front door (which Morro had already opened and was currently outside).

"To Cash Street!" the teen exclaimed, lifting himself on a gust of wind so as to address us from the higher ground— er, air.

I smiled and nudged Garmadon, attempting to get him to join in the festive mood. "To Cash Street!"

"Ah… right. Onward," he said, closing the door behind us. I paused. Morro and I exchanged a glance that said 'well, it's a start,' and then headed out to the sounds of the rest of the Departed Realm starting to awake.

* * *

(A/N: Brain: You should write another chapter for your fanfic

Me: Nahhhh

Brain: But listen… reviews

Me: …

Me: …

Me: … hold my beer)

(Also GUESS WHO FINALLY LEARNED HOW TO MAKE PROPER HORIZONTAL LINES BUT WILL PROBABLY CONTINUALLY FORGET AND JUST USE EM DASHES ABOVE THE AUTHOR'S NOTES?!)


	20. Decorations

The walk to Cash Street was long, but that was preferable, as most of the shops wouldn't open until at least nine, when most ghosts would be out of their pajamas and shopping. As such, we took our time— Garmadon and I by walking at a leisurely pace, and Morro by flying ahead at a not-so-leisurely pace and then doubling back around again over and over.

We didn't talk much, either. Garmadon seemed somewhat lost in thought, and although Morro attempted to start a conversation several times, he eventually got bored and switched his focus to seeing how fast he could fly to the end of the street and back (and then while we passed through the park, from tree to tree). To be honest, I was perfectly content with the situation. The view was astounding: I never woke up in time for the sunrise since dying, but I was starting to think I should make a habit of it. The sky was mostly an array of blues and purples, with twinkling white dots still visible as if they were holes poked through the very fabric of space itself, and a dim red light from where the sun was emerging was slowly pushing the cooler colors away to make space for itself. As if pushing away a great body of water, the light became more visible by the minute, as the red made way for an even softer orange light that spilled across the treetops and bathed the leaves in a glow that made their colors apparent. The leaves, too, were changing with the sky: only yesterday they had seemed green and fresh, but today traces of color were starting to show on some of the older leaves. Seasons worked a bit differently in the Departed Realm, due to the changed physics (which I had been meaning to study), so it was reasonable to assume that by Dotted the whole park might be completely engulfed in a sea of orange, red, and brown— save for the Central Willow, which was green all year long. The leaves all seemed to flutter in reaction to my thoughts for a moment as a light wind blew past and reminded me that it was still rather chilly, and that I should have perhaps brought something warmer than my usual attire. I stole a glance at Garmadon, but he seemed less disturbed by the temperature than me, as usual. Then I stole a glance at Morro and realized it was probably his frantic flying which had caused the wind in the first place.

"Morro, is it possible for you to warm up the air?" I called gently to the boy once he returned from one of his laps. He shrugged.

"Sorry, no can do. I'm the Master of Wind, not of temperature," he replied, then used the tree I was passing as a launch pad and shot himself forward again to reach who-knows-what destination before circling back around.

I wrapped my lab coat a bit tighter against my body and tried to forget about the cold. I looked down at the grass we were treading on and wondered how long it had been since I studied the grass. I remembered being fascinated as a child by how complex each individual blade was, and by how _much_ of it could exist in a single area. My mom often caught me wandering by the side of the road to examine what I thought was some unusually large clump or a spot where the grass was discolored. Thinking back on it, I probably looked like I was wandering off at random. I chuckled slightly and wondered which had been more annoying, my unusual interest in grass or my obsession with books that had developed only slightly after.

I had succeeded in turning my thoughts away from the chill, but apparently I was still shivering, because Garmadon noticed me and asked quietly (as if not to wake anyone up, though we weren't near any houses), "Are you cold?"

"Hm? Oh, it's all right. Nothing compared to being up at the top of the lighthouse surrounded by the freezing sea in the early mornings, that's for sure," I chuckled. Garmadon frowned.

"You should have brought a warmer coat. Here, hurry your pace, then we can find someplace to sit inside," he said in his same gruff voice.

"Really, I'm okay," I laughed sheepishly. Attempting to veer the subject away from myself, I added, "You don't seem affected by the cold."

He shrugged. "As a sensei, I spent many years training my body to endure all sorts of conditions without repercussions. I tried to pass some of that same training onto Lloyd, but he was a little less enthusiastic about it than I was."

I was about to respond, but Morro (returning once again from a lap and landing on the ground to take a break) cut in with his own question.

"What about Zane?"

I blinked and tilted my head, a bit confused at the abrupt question. "Come again?"

"Zane," he repeated, and motioned to Garmadon. "He said Lloyd didn't like temperature training. Wu tried to teach me the same thing, back on Ninjago. I'm curious if Zane experiences cold— you know, 'cuz he's a nindroid and all. I mean, you told us you built him, so you should know if he can sense the cold."

"O-oh, well," I said, still a bit taken aback, "He can definitely tell when it's cold, but I don't think it bothers him. I mean, Master of Ice and all…"

"Oh, right, duh," Morro laughed. It seemed like he was trying to conceal some embarrassment, and I didn't blame him. I was surprised that he took any interest in the ninja (although I was always more than happy to talk about my son). I wondered briefly if he'd learned more about the ninja while in Ninjago than he was letting on.

"Say," Garmadon said to me, suddenly changing the subject, "You said everyone here starts out with 'an amount' of free credit. How much is that, exactly?" I wondered why Garmadon had changed the subject so abruptly when we might have actually learned something about Morro if he'd continued to talk. Perhaps he was oblivious to that possibility.

"Oh, well, it depends on what the circumstances of your death were, but you should have plenty. It's only once you start your work period that you need to learn how to ration your credit," I explained.

"That, or you make friends with an old guy who gives you free cookies," Morro laughed. He was smirking, but cheerful.

"Oy…" Garmadon muttered, and rubbed his head as if getting a headache. I decidedly neglected to point out the fact that Morro had more than repaid me with all the food he'd bought from Trader Godot's.

"Ah!" The teen exclaimed. "There's the end of the park! Cash Street is just past there!" The end of the park was barely in our sightline, but Morro made off like a rocket, whipping up a gust of wind to increase his agility. I remembered reading something about a Master of Speed while doing research on the elemental masters a while back, and wondered why there needed to be one while Morro existed. Surely that was like having a Master of Heat while Kai was around.

After a few seconds of silence, Morro's voice rang out from the edge of the park. "Doc, Sensei, get over here! They've started hanging decorations!"

I smiled and quickened my pace, nodding to Garmadon to do the same. There was no real rush, as the chances of finding an open shop were still slim to none, but Morro's excitement was a bit contagious. Personally, I found his still-youthful excitement refreshing.

"Hey!" Garmadon exclaimed, as we caught up to Morro. "Get down from… Wait, are those lanterns?"

Morro was perched like a bird atop one of two large posts that formed a gate over Cash Street. Streetlights were planted every couple of yards on either end of the road in the middle, and at the moment, long strings of lanterns were hung between them, glowing in what was left of the morning darkness. Just behind the lights were rows of shops, all different sizes and varieties, which all appeared to be closed save for one café on the corner nearest to us.

"Looks like the town's finally starting to decorate for Dotted," Morro said, nodding in response to Garmadon's question. He then looked at me hopefully and I smirked.

"No cookies yet, young man," I said, shaking my head. Morro stuck out his tongue in a fashion that definitely did not imply him to be a "young man."

"So are those the lanterns that you— um, that _we_ — receive updates from…?" Garmadon asked. Morro and I shook our heads simultaneously.

"Those won't arrive until the living send them up," I said. "These are just replicas to get into the spirit of things."

"Stop stealing my jokes!" Morro huffed, crossing his arms.

"What?"

"My jokes. Get into the _spirit_ of things?" he said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh… yes, of course. I meant to do that," I chuckled. By now, Garmadon had turned his attention away from us and to the café on the corner.

"Shall we head inside?" he asked, already starting to walk towards it. "It's likely warmer in there than it is out here."

"Er, yes, thank you," I said, realizing he was concerned for me. Morro hopped down from the top of the gate as casually as he'd hopped off the kitchen table, landing easily on his feet without so much as flinching.

I didn't even realize quite how cold I had been until we walked into the nice, heated space and took a table near the back. The only other person in the café was a somewhat brute-looking, tattoo-covered thug with an apron on, leaning against the register counter with a tired, bored expression. He glanced up at us and nodded when we entered to affirm that we could stay awhile, but didn't say a word other than that. I assumed he spent more time at that counter than he liked.

"So," Morro said, leaning back and tipping his chair in a way that felt familiar but I couldn't quite place, "once the other shops open, what should we be looking for?"

"Well, we came here to get a game," I said, "so we should probably go to either a game shop if they have one, or a bookstore."

"They have games in bookstores?" the teen asked, cocking his head.

"Of course. Games, books, music… basically anything you could ever want in life, besides food, and sometimes that, too. Have you never been in a bookstore before?" I replied.

Morro hesitated. "I mean… ancient libraries and stuff, while I was looking for the Tomb of the First Spinjitzu Master… but never just casual ones."

I gasped and put my hand to my heart, mocking a heart attack. "Why, you haven't lived until you've experienced the wonders of a bookstore! I'm glad this is being remedied!"

"First of all, he definitely has lived, he's _dead_ ," Garmadon cut in, "and second of all, didn't you spend most of your life in a metal tree?"

"Hey, now," I argued, "I spent most of my college days holed up in the local bookstore studying my heart out. I happen to have rather fond memories of the place. It's where I got some of my best work done."

"Well, how was I supposed to know?" he retorted. "You never talk about your college days, except that you graduated early."

"That's true," Morro added, which was surprising considering he was basically teaming with Garmadon by doing so. "You told us a lot about yourself back when we first came to your pad, but you kinda skipped over your entire childhood."

"There's not much to—" I started, but Garmadon cut me off.

"I think he's avoiding talking about someone," he said, smirking a little and elbowing Morro. Morro's eyes lit up with excitement and mischief, and for a moment the two almost looked related.

"Ooh, was there a girl involved?" the teen asked, leaning forward with a very teenage smile on his face.

"Oh, hush," I said in a teasing voice back, deciding to play along. "You never talk about _your_ childhood, either."

"Hmph." He crossed his arms and leaned back again, this time also kicking his feet up onto the table. "Okay, change of topic."

I suddenly realized why his odd pose had felt familiar, but my thoughts were quickly brought back by Garmadon asking if we knew if there actually _was_ a bookstore on Cash Street.

"Wasn't there one a while ago called… uh… Chernobyl Charms, or something like that?" Morro asked. Suddenly, a gruff voice interrupted the conversation.

"Charms of Chernobyl." I looked up to see the tattooed worker walking towards us. Apparently he'd been listening to the conversation.

"Well that name makes no sense," Morro complained, but the man thankfully didn't seem to hear him.

"It's down the street quite a ways, but you can't miss it. There's a huge prop book on top of the building, you know, like the kind that only exists in cartoons," he said, nodding in the direction it was located.

"Ah, thank you very much," I said, trying not to let his voice and appearance unsettle me.

"Sure. It don't open 'till nine, though," he said in a still-tired tone, and walked back over to his register. I wondered why they made him open the place so early when nobody was up yet.

"It's settled, then," Garmadon said, lowering his voice a bit (perhaps out of habit when being eavesdropped on). "At nine, we'll head out of here and find that bookstore so we can find a game to play."

"And then I'll beat both of you," Morro said, grinning confidently.

I grinned back. "We'll see about that."

* * *

(A/N: My lame puns using dark/death-related rhymes continue. Apparently everyone in the Departed Realm has a dark sense of humor XP I tried to make this chapter a little longer for you guys because your reviews are all so sweet and I love you all so much; we'll see if I actually accomplished the length I was aiming for, though XP)


	21. Charms of Chernobyl

As we waited in the café for 9:00 to come, I found myself wishing I could watch a time-lapse of the sky. By 6:30 it was completely orange and by 7:00 it was blue— a most unusual phenomenon, which I guessed had something to do with the same physics that caused the rapid changing of the seasons. At around 7:30, my attention was drawn to the first customer (besides our little trio) walking through the door: a rather young but confident-looking girl who sat down at a table by herself on the end of the room opposite us. The muscular worker barely gave her a second glance, so it seemed that she came to the café quite often.

"Isn't she a bit young to be here on her own?" Garmadon whispered to me, looking to see if there were any adults behind her. "Where are her parents?"

Although the question wasn't directed at him, Morro shrugged and answered, "She's probably a waiting orphan."

"Waiting for what?" Garmadon asked. Morro rolled his eyes.

"For her parents to die. 'Waiting orphans' are what we call kids who die before their parents or other relatives," he explained.

"Ah. So does that make you—?" Garmadon started.

"I'm a static orphan. Orphaned in one life, orphaned in the next." He shrugged. "Although I'm not sure I completely counted as an orphan once Wu took me in, but whatever."

"Isn't the definition of an orphan someone just who's parents are dead?" Garmadon asked.

"I thought it was someone without a caretaker," Morro said.

While the two of them debated that point, I pulled out my blueprints and started re-checking the calculations I'd already made. Then I started figuring out how many metal "feathers" would go on each wing. Working on Tiya took so long, in fact, that I didn't notice the time until Morro ribbed me and said,

"Hey, Doc! It's nine, let's get going!"

I packed up my work and we headed out the door, leaving behind the small amount of chatter that had started between customers who had walked in while I was absorbed in my blueprints. Outside, it finally looked like daytime: the sun was up, the sky was clear, and ghosts walked up and down the street, pointing to this shop or that and walking out of stores with purchases in hand. Many held picture frames such as the ones displayed in my house, and others had portraits of loved ones they were waiting on. Such items were always in high demand around DOTD.

"Hey, Geezer-don, watch this!" Morro called, and promptly jumped up onto one of the streetlights on the side of the road. Several heads turned as he did so.

"You little—" Garmadon started, but the teen was already tight-rope-walking away from us on the strings that the lanterns were hung on. He sighed.

"That boy is too fond of making trouble," he muttered. I was thinking carefully about how to respond when Morro called out from several streetlights down,

"I THINK I SEE IT!"

I escalated my pace as the boy took bounding leaps from post to post towards a store with what did have what appeared to be, as we approached it, an enormous open book sitting on the top of it. The pages simply read "CoC," with the little "o" printed in the middle of the pages.

"Well, it looks like we found the right place," I said as I caught up to Morro. As we entered the store, a friendly female voice greeted us with a "welcome to Charms of Chernobyl," confirming my statement.

"Whoa," Morro exclaimed, looking around, "You weren't kidding."

Indeed, the entire store was littered with what looked like street signs, pointing customers in the directions of the "action," "adventure," "biographical," "historical," and "pop culture" books (just to name a few). Several smaller orange signs pointed towards "music," "games," "movies," and "other media".

Suddenly, Morro's attention was caught by a sign reading "ancient scrolls." He tugged at my sleeve and pointed to it.

"Doc, look! I'm gonna go see if my name is in there!"

"All the information in the world at your fingertips… and you look for your own name?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Why does a common bookstore have a section of ancient scrolls?" Garmadon asked, pulling my attention back. "Anyhow… While he does that, shall we start looking for a game?"

"Hmm… I think Morro should be there for that," I said after some thought. "Perhaps we should split up for now and look for our own individual interests."

"Fair enough," he said, nodding. "There's something I was meaning to look for anyway." He went off in the other direction and I started heading toward the science section. I could do with a few refresher courses on electronics.

CoC did not disappoint. The science section was chock-full of titles by some of my favorite authors, including Snapston Blocking, Francis Brick, and Build Gates. It took all my self-control to not grab every book I saw, but I restrained myself. After carefully selecting only the few titles that I thought would help me most with my current project— and narrowing down my pile even more by putting at least seven of those back— I carried my purchases over to one of the checkouts, where several fellow bibliophiles were waiting in line. I reread the backs of my new treasures while I waited.

There really was something about being in a bookstore again— a proper one, not just the stands I had bought from in the marketplace— that filled me with delight and nostalgia. So often had I listened to the quiet white noise of transactions being completed over the audible silence of people becoming absorbed into their own realities. So often had the smell of new books drifted through the air to be breathed in like oxygen by those who fed on their words. So often had the feel of pages under my fingertips been my only sensation of touch, that I was startled when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"You find a game without me, San-gray?" Morro asked. Several people in line behind me scowled at him, probably assuming he had cut in front of them.

"No, we decided to wait until you came back from your little search. These are just some light reading materials for myself— figured I might need them if you and Garmadon get into a quarrel while looking for a game," I explained teasingly. Then, smiling, I added, "How did that search of yours go, by the way?"

Morro blinked and his face contorted into relief. Had it not done so, I wouldn't have even caught that he was upset in the first place. I found myself very glad and very proud that I had decided to wait on buying a game.

"O-oh, I didn't find much. I mean, a bit about my evil reign of terror and all, but yea." He coughed. "Their descriptions of my powers didn't really do me justice, so I left."

"Ah," I replied. We moved forward in the line and I glanced around what I could see of the store. "Say, did Garmadon pass your way? We split up a while ago and he said he was looking for something, but I don't know which section of the store he headed towards." We reached the register and the cashier scanned my books as we talked.

"No idea," said Morro. "Did he tell you what he was looking for?"

I shook my head. "No… perhaps we should head over to the games section and meet him there."

"Sounds good to me," Morro said with a smile. I gave a small, apologetic nod to the folks behind me as we left to get to the games section.

The area was almost as impressive as the science section, which was a bit surprising considering the main trade of the store was supposed to be books. Nevertheless, board games, card games, dice games, and many games I'd never even heard of were in plentiful abundance. Morro lit up like a lantern and dove right into snatching up the ones that looked the "coolest."

"We're only going to buy one, you know that, right?" I asked as the boy hoarded the merchandise into a pile. He looked up and hesitated, his arms still wrapped around the games protectively like a dragon protecting its treasure.

"Aw… but…" His voice sounded comically young.

"Something the matter?"

We turned around to see the man we'd been searching for approaching us slowly, giving Morro's treasure hoard a disapproving glance.

"Ah, Garmadon," I said, "we were wondering where you were. Morro's found a wide selection of games for us to choose from."

"I see that," he said gruffly, then handed me a bag I hadn't noticed he was carrying. "Here."

"I… what?" I asked, taking the bag but not sure why he was handing it to me. He motioned towards it.

"Inside the bag. It's for you."

I blinked in surprise as Morro made some comment about wanting something, too, and pulled the unexpected gift out. In my hands I now held a long, knitted teal scarf.

"Since you don't do well with the cold…" Garmadon started.

"I… th-thank you so much," I managed to stammer. I stared at the gift like it was an exotic creature. "How did you know…?"

"That you were cold?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Morro joined in with a cocky smirk.

"You didn't exactly try to hide it," the ghost boy said. I shook my head.

"No, not that." I looked up at Garmadon and started to laugh, realizing that his choice of scarf had been nothing more than a fortunate coincidence. "This is my favorite color."

"Oh, that… well, I guess it was a lucky guess," Garmadon said, a smile forming on his face. He seemed glad that I liked the present so much. I was still a bit overwhelmed at the sudden gesture of kindness.

"Hey, if you two are done," Morro said, evidently getting bored, "I have a _ton_ of games here. And if we're only gonna buy one, I'm going to choose it if you don't hurry up and give your opinion."

"Ah, you'll choose it anyway," Garmadon said, but started looking through what Morro had taken off of the shelves. "So many games about fighting…" he grumbled.

"Isn't competition the purpose of a game?" I pointed out.

"Not this one, apparently," Morro commented, wrinkling his nose. He was looking at the back of an intricately painted tin box. "It says all the players work together."

"Now that's more like it," Garmadon said, sounding pleased.

"How exactly does that game work?" I inquired. Morro looked disgusted, but read the back of the box aloud.

"Escape From Dark Island: A family-friendly game of wits." He glanced up at me as if to ask if he could stop reading, but I motioned for him to continue. "When a research helicopter crash-lands onto the fabled Dark Island, the brave researchers inside must trek to each corner of the land to obtain the mythical chalices of Fire, Ice, Lightning, and Earth."

"Okay, that's not how the elements work. This is a rip-off," Garmadon said, but I hushed him and nodded for Morro to continue.

"See how well you and your teammates can work together to get the chalices and get off the island before it's flooded with pure darkness. Two or more players, ages eight and up."

"Eight and up is a good sign," I said. Morro stuck out his tongue.

"Well, it clearly isn't scientifically accurate," Garmadon grumbled. "Mythical chalices? What is this, a children's TV show? Everybody knows that elemental powers are hereditary; you can't just pick up a magic cup and suddenly control the ocean."

"Hmmm," I said, looking at the art on the box. Whoever was the artist for the game company really put their all into it. "I think we should give it a try. A team-building game might be interesting."

Garmadon and Morro looked at each other, then at me. I put on my best "I'm not giving up this point" face and waited until finally Morro said,

"Fine. But if it's totally lame, I'm blaming you."

I nodded. "Fair enough. Let's take this to the checkout." I then wrapped my new scarf around my neck and we headed outside to browse the rest of Cash Street before going home.

* * *

(A/N: Wow, I think I exceeded my limit on puns, lampshading, AND references to the real world all in one chapter! XD Anyway, I wanted to post this chapter a while ago, but there was an error message for like 2 or 3 days /=/ But s'all good now!)


	22. Shortcomings

"You can't move there."

"Yes I can. I'm a diver."

"No, I mean, you can't go to the temple to get the chalice yet. You don't have enough chalice cards."

"Yes I do! I have four, look!"

"Those are _ocean_ chalice cards! That's the fire chalice temple! Maker of plastic bricks, were you even listening to the rules?!"

I sighed as the inevitable argument in front of me unfolded while "Garmadon the diver" and "Morro the explorer" (which I'd honestly had to bite my tongue to not make a joke about) fought over the various but really fairly simple rules to _Escape From Dark Island._ I'd tried to be the mediator earlier, but at this point I'd given up. Both boys simply had too much of a warrior spirit to admit that they might be wrong, even when it was very clear that such was the case.

"Hey, doc," Morro said, turning to me, "do you or do you not need the _specific_ cards of a chalice's element in order to claim it?"

"Sorry, but leave me out of this," I said hastily, throwing my hands back in defense. "The rulebook is right there if you want to check."

Confidently, Morro snatched the glossy magazine-like sheets of paper and flipped through them until he found the section he was looking for. "Aha!" he cried, and triumphantly read the section out loud to his teammate-slash-opponent. "Claiming the chalices: In order to claim an elemental chalice, a player must stand on one of the chalice's temples and discard four elemental chalice cards in his hand _matching the chalice he wants to claim."_

"Let me see that," Garmadon snapped, and grabbed the rules from Morro. After finding the quote the teenager was reading and ascertaining that he had not, in fact, been lying, he set the rules back down and announced gruffly, "Fine. Then I end my turn."

"Finally," Morro said, flopping onto his back. Garmadon muttered something under his breath, but thankfully it was quiet enough so Morro didn't notice and I couldn't tell what he said.

"I believe it's my turn, then…?" I asked tentatively. Garmadon nodded and I reached out to move my piece. I was an "engineer," a role that grew more powerful as the game went on.

"I'm going to move one space upward," I declared, moving my small blue token to the next tile over, "and sandbag the tiles to my left and right."

"It's technically called 'shoring up,'" Morro said from the floor, "not sandbagging."

"Well, you use a sandbag to do it, so I don't see what the issue is," Garmadon retorted, jumping at either the chance to defend me or argue with Morro (probably the latter).

"He's an engineer. He's not using his sandbags, he's using his power," Morro said back, sitting up and narrowing his eyebrows. "I was just correcting his words."

"Why do you care?" Garmadon asked, and I sighed and braced myself for another oncoming debate. "You use the word _ain't."_

"So?" Morro asked.

"So clearly you aren't one for proper terminology." The gray-haired man crossed his arms like a disapproving grandparent, although I'd never dare make that connection out loud.

"Who says ain't ain't proper terminology?" Morro asked, now purposefully using the word to annoy his elder. "Now if the doc is done with his turn…"

"I am," I said with a single nod.

"Then I'll use my helicopter card to land on the fire chalice temple and take the chalice." Morro started to move his piece as Garmadon huffed indignantly.

"What? You just didn't want me to get the chalice so _you_ could have it, is that it?" he accused. Normally I would've attributed such an outburst to unfounded anger, but Morro's smirk made me think otherwise.

"It really doesn't matter who has what chalice," I interjected quickly, "as long as we get all four of them and get off the island before it floods with pure evil."

Bad move.

"We're lucky we aren't stuck on Dark Island for real," Garmadon grumbled, "or we'd never get off. _He'd_ probably steal all the chalices for himself and leave us to die."

"Hey!" Morro exclaimed angrily, "I've changed! Besides, if I _wanted_ you all to die, I wouldn't even need the chalices. I could just fly off the island myself."

"Hah!" Garmadon retorted, pointing a finger at the teen. "The fact that _that's_ the first thing to come to your mind just proves that you were thinking about doing it!" I opened my mouth to try to calm the storm, but the forces of nature had already started and no mere mortal was going to be able to stop them.

"I was evil for over fifty years!" Morro cried, throwing his hands in the air. "Of _course_ my mind's gonna go there! It's not like I can just change my entire pattern of thinking with the press of a button!"

"Apparently not," the sensei huffed. "But you could at least _try_ to be a little more respectful. What's with butchering my name all the time?"

"It's easy to butcher," Morro replied, sticking his nose in the air. It would have probably been okay if he'd just left it at that, but then he added, "What kind of a name is Garmadon, anyway? It _sounds_ evil. Was your father trying to cause your destiny or what?"

Garmadon let out a barking laugh. "My father created all of Ninjago, and you have the nerve to try and insult him?"

"Well he sure doesn't seem like he loved his kids very much," Morro huffed. "What happened to him, anyway? Shouldn't he _be_ here? Like, I don't know, visiting his dead son?!"

"Sometimes unconscious souls get stuck in transaction," I tried to add quickly. "It's possible that he's in a resting state, and will spawn properly when he awakens—"

"My father could go anywhere he darn well pleases," Garmadon argued, ignoring my meek attempt at explaining away Morro's argument. "He probably isn't even really dead, he could've just created another realm and disappeared from Ninjago."

"And abandoned his kids? Still doesn't sound like a very good father to me," Morro retorted.

"What would you know of abandonment?" Garmadon shot back. "Sometimes things are far more complicated than they appear on the surface! I had to leave Lloyd in the care of his mother because I knew my destiny was to be an evil warlord, and I didn't want him to grow up to be like me. That was _heartbreaking._ You can't know how it feels to be forced into abandoning your own child!"

My eyes grew wide as I caught the older man's mistake.

"Well, I know how it feels to BE abandoned!" Morro cried, and a gust of wind blew through the room, flipping over several purple tiles. I hastily tried to shore them back up before Garmadon could comment, but he was too intent on arguing with Morro to notice.

"My brother took you in out of the goodness of his heart at a young age," he said in an angry voice, "and you may not have had the best parenting, but you can hardly say you were abandoned! You had a parental figure for most of your life. That's more than most kids can say. Even Lloyd went a long time with nobody to guide him and he still turned out better than you!"

To my alarm, Morro's hand tightened into a fist. "First of all," he said cooly, "your son _did_ try to turn evil, he just wasn't any good at it. And second of all, he still knew that his dad was alive and loved him. His memories of you kept him going through all his worst days and his darkest nights— I should know, I've been inside his mind."

 _That insight would've been heartwarming under a different context,_ I thought sadly.

"And Wu's care for you meant nothing?" Garmadon snapped.

"That isn't the point!" Morro cried, and while I was trying to be impartial I found myself agreeing with him. "Lloyd got to remember his dad, not even mentioning that he got to spend time with you after the final battle. He had all these sweet memories of you taking care of him, reading him stories to help him sleep, teaching him how catch a ball, even just telling him that he was loved! Even if he didn't always get to be with you, he still had the knowledge that he was valued. But me…" His hands clenched tighter and I noticed a trace of legitimate pain on his face. Suffice to say, crying is a much more painful experience for ghosts than for the living. "My father thought I was worthless. He didn't even want me."

Garmadon blinked in surprise, but unfortunately, he wasn't taken aback enough to render him silent. "I thought you were abandoned before you even knew your parents."

"What? No," Morro said, sounding slightly confused. "I wouldn't have survived as an infant left on my own. My parents didn't throw me into the orphanage until I was almost three. Well, my dad didn't, anyway, my mom died during childbirth so legally he had to take care of me until I was put up for adoption and he was always talking about the cops being on his back… it was complicated. But long story short, I _do_ know how it feels to be abandoned, and—" he growled— "I think that makes me more of an expert on the subject than you, Mr. Know-it-all." Seeming emotionally strained and clearly determined to have the last word, the master of wind stood up and stamped out of the room, admittedly still in a much calmer manner than I'd been expecting. Garmadon looked like he wanted to retaliate but didn't know what to say. Finally, he settled for muttering something about youth and arrogance under his breath and cleaning up the tiles from the unfinished game. I helped silently, wishing I could think of exactly how to put what I wanted to say.

 _There is a time and place for everything,_ Wu had once told me. He'd also said… well, I couldn't remember exactly how he'd phrased it, but it was something about letting emotions get the better of you, and how it only led to worsening the problem. He was spot on about that.

"I'm going to go out back to meditate," Garmadon suddenly said, breaking the silence in the room. I wasn't sure if he was asking my permission or simply stating the facts, so I nodded awkwardly and watched as he walked through the sliding glass door to the backyard, slamming it shut with perhaps a bit more force than was necessary. As he walked out, I saw a strong breeze mess up the sensei's hair and robes, and I realized Morro was probably out flying laps to cool off steam.

Sighing, I finished cleaning up the game and walked over to put it in the closet, resolving to get it out again at some point. There was a time and place for everything.

And soon, I decided, I'd need to find the time to talk to Garmadon and try to end the feud between him and Morro for good.

* * *

(Hello! Okay, so, first of all, the most recent episode of Ninjago [Snake Jaguar] was AMAAAAAZING! No spoilers for anyone who hasn't seen it yet. But unfortunately, it did shatter one of my headcanons that I'd already written into this story. You can probably figure out which one, or at least the vague area of conflict. Anyway, I plan on fixing it eventually, and I'll let you guys know if/when I do, but for now don't worry too much because those aspects of backstory weren't going to come into play again anyhow. Tl;dr, SDLPC's future is still intact.) (Second of all, I actually wrote a very different version of this chapter several days ago and disliked it so much that I trashed it and completely started over. I'm MUCH happier with this rewrite so I hope you guys enjoy and that it was worth the wait!) (Third of all [sorry for the long A/N, wow], the game they're playing is a legit game called Forbidden Island and it's super fun and y'all should play it. Finally, remember to like, comment, and sub— uhhh I mean, fav, follow, and review! XD)


	23. Restless

_It's Jay's birthday today. Which means there's cake. In other words, it's a good day._

 _I stand by a small folding table of snacks and punch and watch the ninja playing some game they made up (which includes several rubber balls and a lot of trying to hit each other) from a distance. The outside air is lovely, and the sun shines bright above us. Leaning agains the side of the Bounty are Sensei Wu, a curious fellow who is very interesting to talk to, and the newly reformed Garmadon, who looks very different without four arms and red eyes. In fact, had I just been a stranger passing by, I would have never linked the two together. The new Garmadon is… interesting. I'd like to talk to him more, but I'm not sure quite how to go about it. I don't even know much about him, although I commend the love he has for his son. He's a good father. Speaking of which…_

 _My attention turns towards my own son, Zane. He and Cole seem to have teamed up on Kai, who is desperately flinging rubber balls in their direction. I smile with the most authentic happiness in my heart. I couldn't be prouder of my son, or happier that he found such a close group of brothers to bond with. I don't know any of them as well as Wu seems to, but I've talked with Lloyd a fair deal— he's a good young man, and eager to learn— and the conversations I've held with the others have always been enlightening in one way or another. Nya and Jay both love mechanics, which has given me plenty of chances to show off, and Kai is cocky but fun to listen to. He also knows a surprising amount of information about my son, for someone who seems to only care about himself. I suppose he's one of the types that's more caring on the inside. Cole, on the other hand, is a very supportive and outgoing teammate, and appreciates good cooking as much as I do. He and I picked out the cake for Jay together, although really he picked it out while I admired everything in the freezer. I wasn't really sure what to say, since he seemed to know his friend inside and out and I was still just a newcomer. That's one of the difficulties I've had living on the Bounty so far, but I really can't complain. At any rate, the cake he chose is delicious._

 _I pile another handful of veggies onto my plate for dipping, and glance around to see if there are any chairs I can drag over. Lately my back's been going out all too often, but I don't want to say anything, as the other two old guys seem perfectly comfortable. I don't want to intrude._

 _"Hi, Doctor J!" a friendly voice calls as Cole runs over to the table, panting and sweating but grinning like he just won the lottery._

 _"Hello, Cole," I say with a friendly smile. "Is the game over?"_

 _"Nope!" Cole grins as he cuts himself a piece of blue-frosted cake and starts digging in ravenously. "Just taking a cake break."_

 _"Hey, lazybutt, step aside!" I hear Kai yell as a mess of red comes in our direction. The brown-haired boy snatches some chips straight out of the bowl and pops them in his mouth, ignoring the plates. I step aside as I see the other ninja following his lead, coming over to fuel themselves for more of whatever crazy game they're playing._

 _I simply smile and watch from a few feet away as they eat. Zane offers to get me a chair— he always knows when I'm hurting— but I tell him to enjoy his friends. I can always sit on the grass if the aching gets too bad._

 _I love my son, and I love learning about the brothers he's growing up with. No— grown up with. I have to remember that he isn't a little kid anymore. But… he is still growing. I suppose none of us ever really stop growing. We're always changing, always learning, always bettering ourselves._

 _I give in and sit cross-legged on the grass as the boys run back to the patch of grass they've designated as the field to play. My crow's feet wrinkle as I grin at the sight of the five ninja chasing each other around and falling on the grass. Nya emerges from the Bounty and says something, then walks over to talk to Garmadon and Wu. Seeing so much youthful energy makes me feel just a little more youthful myself. I'm not, of course— in fact, my time is drawing very near, and I'm aware of it. But I don't mind. These scenes of joy are the best memories to end on. When you get to the point I've gotten to, you realize that the beauty of friendship and life is one of the only really important things there is— far more important than any discovery or machine._

 _In fact, I think my only regret is not having known that wisdom sooner._

* * *

"Sanjay?"

I was awakened by Garmadon, who was whispering very quietly but still managed to break through my dream. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, unsure of what time it was.

"Oh, no, I'm so sorry, I thought you were awake—" he started, but I shook my head and cut him off.

"That's all right, I was just getting to the end of a flashback. What's on your mind?" I asked. It was still dark out; it probably wasn't even morning yet.

"Oh… nothing," he said, clearing his throat. I was amused by how weak the lie was.

"Come, now," I coaxed gently, although it felt weird being the one doing the coaxing, "you know I won't mind whatever you have to say."

Garmadon paused. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, I could make out his face. It didn't look like he'd slept at all.

When he still didn't answer, I asked hesitantly, "Is… is it about Morro?"

He nodded quietly. Then he turned to me and said in a worried voice that I didn't know he had, "I… I think I was too hard on him earlier."

Although it pained me, I nodded in affirmation. "Yes, I think perhaps he was under a bit too much stress thinking about his past to act properly. Maybe a more lenient approach would have been better, under the circumstances."

He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "But… I couldn't just let him act disrespectful like that. Even if I _was_ being prideful— and I admit that's a fault of mine— it still wouldn't have been right for me to let him act that way." This statement surprised me, but I paused and thought carefully before answering.

"It's good that you acknowledge your faults. But… telling me doesn't do much good. I think you need to apologize to Morro before you can worry about anything else."

Garmadon seemed legitimately surprised at this suggestion. "Apologize to him?" he asked in a slightly scary voice. "I'm his elder! What sort of message would it send if _I_ apologized to _him?_ He'd lose all respect for me!"

 _Respect._ Something about that word resonated deep within my soul, and some of his behavior suddenly felt frighteningly familiar.

"…I think," I said slowly, "I understand where you're coming from. Especially the part about wanting to be looked up to and respected. But…" I took a deep breath. "Apologizing won't make anybody lose respect for you. In fact, they'll respect you _more_ for showing that you can lead by example. After all, we all have faults, but not all of us are willing to admit to them— much less apologize for them. To own up to your actions is to prove that you have the humility _and_ courage to make things right. And trust me, that's a feat worthy of admiration." I took a deep breath and waited out the inevitable silent pause after my words.

"I… suppose you're right," Garmadon finally sighed. "I'm just so used to teaching others, I… have a hard time accepting advice myself. But if I'm going to be worthy of the title Sensei, I'll have to re-learn that skill." He turned to me. "You're… you're a good friend, Sanjay."

I don't think I'd been prouder of myself or more excited since the day that Zane first woke up.

"…Thank you," I managed to respond in an impressively calm voice. My partner then rolled over and put his head back down on the pillow, trying to go to sleep. I had a feeling it would be easier now that he'd figured out what he was going to do in the morning. I hoped that Morro (who had returned after several hours of flying around outside and was sleeping safely on the couch) was able to get some rest, as well. Both of them needed it.

 _I probably need it, too,_ I thought as I lay back down, gazing at nothing in particular.

I was comforted knowing that if I had another flashback once I fell asleep, it would be one of joy and tranquility.

* * *

(A/N: Huge thanks to Order of the Aether for making the suggestions that led to this chapter, which is honestly probably one of my favorites so far! Have I mentioned that you should all go read her stories? Because you should all go read her stories. *cough* also there's a certain line in this chapter with a double meaning, points to anyone who finds it *cough*)


	24. Redos

(A/N: Doing a pre-chapter A/N because there's going to be a long one afterwards that I'm going to need your input on! Anyway, thanks to ABC for telling me what Garmadon's name is derived from [it will come up later], and to all of you for leaving me awesome reviews :D Now, onto the chapter!)

* * *

The few hours before Morro woke up were the most awkward of my life. Correction— they were more awkward than any in my life that I could think of. Since the ghost boy had slept in late, Garmadon and I had to make breakfast in the kitchen in a tense state of waiting. The waffles turned out okay, if not a little burned due to my inexperience, but it was mostly the silence that was hard to take. Garmadon seemed to be having trouble enough coping with the knowledge that he'd have to put his pride behind him, and he wasn't much in the mood for conversation.

Finally, after we'd had our fill and set aside the rest for Morro, the teenager on the couch stirred. I knew physical appearances couldn't change, but somehow the shadows under his eyes seemed worse than ever before. I nodded to Garmadon and we walked into the room as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Good morning, Morro," I said softly. He glanced up in a slight bout of confusion as he regained consciousness and then answered with a quiet, tired moan. He ran a hand over his hair, slicking down a bad bedhead, and then noticed Garmadon.

"Whad'ya want?" he asked, in a slightly annoyed but mostly confused voice. I didn't blame him; it wasn't normal for us to sit by the couch when he woke up. We usually just waited for him to join whatever activity we were doing.

Garmadon cleared his throat. "About last night…" he started.

Morro blinked, remembering the night before, and then leaned back with an expression that suggested he was expecting a fight but wasn't really in the mood for one. "Yeah?"

"I, um…" The older man coughed. "I wanted to say… I'm sorry. I was a bit rough on you."

Morro blinked in surprise, then cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. "…'s this a joke?"

I caught his attention with a small shake of my head. He looked back at Garmadon, seeming very shaken and slightly uncomfortable.

"Um… thanks," he said, his weak morning voice still intact. Then on second thought, he added, "I 's kinda rough too. Sorry."

Garmadon seemed surprised at the returned apology, although I had suspected it. The two were awkwardly quiet for a moment, and I realized they needed help in getting things back to normal.

"We left you waffles on the table," I said to Morro. He perked up a little at both the mention of food and the change of topic from the night before.

"Oh, good, food," he said, sounding a bit more awake. He pushed the rest of the blue blanket off of himself and got to his feet, walking into the kitchen to retrieve his breakfast.

Once he was in the other room, Garmadon looked over at me hesitantly, in a manner almost like a dog after performing a trick.

"You did well," I said with a reassuring smile. "Not as bad as you thought it'd be?"

He returned a faint grin and nodded.

We both got to our feet and followed into the kitchen, where Morro was scarfing down waffles and looking much better for doing so.

"After breakfast," I said casually, "how would you two feel about a redo of the game?"

Morro glanced up with some mild interest, but Garmadon looked the more surprised of the two. I hadn't told him that I'd try to rekindle the game.

"I'm not sure if—" Garmadon started, but he spoke simultaneously with Morro, who said,

"Sure."

The two paused in awkward surprise, then Garmadon sheepishly looked at me and said, "Well, if he's okay with it, I am." I smiled triumphantly.

"I'll go get the box," I said, walking over to the games closet.

It only took about fifteen minutes to set up the game… and even less time for us to utterly and completely doom ourselves on a rapidly sinking island.

"You gotta come over here and help me!" Morro cried. "I ain't gonna be able to reach the fire temple in time!"

"But I can't leave the last water temple," Garmadon insisted. "If it sinks, we automatically lose the game! We need all the chalices before we can fly off the island!" He turned to me. "I don't like being the engineer."

"Sorry, the roles are random," I said, shrugging. "I'm not very good at this whole messenger thing, either. I haven't even used my power yet."

"I just can't believe I got explorer again," Morro complained as Garmadon ended his turn. "It's like a curse."

"It's only happened twice," I pointed out.

"Well it _feels_ like a curse," he muttered, "and I know all about curses."

I flipped over four flood cards to start my turn. "We have to flood the Forest of Shadows, the Pits of Evil, the Secondary Temple of Earth, and the Resting Place of the Glowing, Talking Ball of Light."

"I thought the Resting Place of the Glowing, Talking Ball of Light was already sunk," Morro said, frowning.

"So do we take the card out of the flood pile?" Garmadon asked.

"Uhh… I'm not sure," I admitted truthfully. "We didn't get this far last time." I handed him the instruction manual to look through. As he did so, Morro overturned the other tiles so the purple sides were showing.

"Darn," Morro said as he flooded the areas, "now both Temples of Earth are flooded with pure evil. None of us have four earth chalice cards yet, do we?"

"Doesn't matter," Garmadon muttered, "I still can't leave the Ocean Temple to shore it up."

"I have a sandbag, but I'm nowhere near the Secondary Temple of Earth," I said with a frown. However, my exterior was, admittedly, slightly falsified: while we may have been doing poorly in the game, we'd managed to avoid any sort of a fight thus far. And in my book, that counted as its own kind of winning.

"Oh!" Morro suddenly exclaimed. "I've got it! Doc, if you use your helicopter card to fly over to me, I can give you _my_ earth chalice cards, and _you_ can go get that chalice while I take the fire one."

"You really like fire, huh?" Garmadon asked, but in a more teasing manner than a rebuking one. Morro ignored him.

"Then you head down to where Sensei is, and he can leave to go get the lightning chalice, which he's already got three out of four cards for. If you use your sandbags, he shouldn't have to stick around worrying about the Ocean Temple." The boy looked very proud of himself for his plan. I paused, stroking my chin.

"That… may work," I said slowly, as I studied his face. "But, dare I ask… why are you grinning like that?"

"I was just about to ask the same thing," Garmadon said, raising an eyebrow. Morro's smile got bigger— he'd evidently hoped we would ask.

"It's just that—" he pointed at me— " _you're_ gonna use your sandbags, so _he—"_ he pointed at Garmadon— "doesn't doom us all by standing around doing nothing all game."

"Meaning…?" I asked slowly, my curiosity too piqued not to ask. Morro grinned.

"Sand-jay is gonna save us all from Garma-geddon."

The teen burst out laughing as Garmadon slapped his forehead and I tried to contain my laughter. I was a little worried when I saw Garmadon's expression change, and was half-concerned that he would start another feud, when instead he said slowly:

"So… you're the leader who came up with this secret plan behind the scenes, right?"

Morro paused, then nodded. "Uh-huh. I'm the real hero of Garma-geddon. But nobody knows it."

"Meaning…" Garmadon's face broke into a smile. "One could call you the 'Mark of Morro.'"

The black-haired teen gave a long pause, then barked with laughter and grinned from ear to ear. "Hah! I'm rubbing off on you!"

"Oh, no," Garmadon snickered, backing away, "I guess you're contagious."

"Then I'm infecting Sand-jay next!" he squealed, and suddenly lunged at me from across the makeshift board of tiles. I dodged on instinct, then pretended to unsheathe a sword.

"Foul virus!" I cried, standing up, "You were supposed to help us get off this island! Now you've turned against us!"

Leaping several feet away onto the couch, Morro dramatically pointed a finger at Garmadon. "And he knew it all along! But you wouldn't listen! Now I'll infect you all with pure evil!"

"Not again!" Garmadon wailed in a melodramatic voice (to my complete and utter delight). Then, turning to me, he asked, "How do I stop him?"

"Leave it to me," I said, adjusting my spectacles, "I'll come up with a plan!" I flashed a grin at Morro. "For I am… the mighty Plan-jay! And no evil-infected villain is going to take us down!"

"We'll just see about that," Morro exclaimed as he ran towards the sliding-glass door, "once I unlock my final form! The— um— _Tree of Great Darkness_ will give me all the strength I need!" He opened the door as Garmadon caught on and ran in his direction.

"We'll never let you get there! Garma-geddon shall not come to pass!" the sensei cried, chasing the Master of Wind into the backyard.

Yup, we were definitely winning.

* * *

(A/N: Okay, guys. SO. There's a ~certain chapter~ that I'm not really going to be able to include in SDLPC due to the fact that the story is told from Doctor Julien's POV. With that being said, I really want to write it and if I don't, it's going to feel like that one episode where the ninja are like "ah yes, Ronin, that one guy that we've totally met before" but like… there's no actual introduction and it feels confusing. X"D With that said, I've come up with four options for how I could go about this. I could:

1\. Write the "special chapter" from another POV and add a disclaimer in the top A/N that it's deviating from the norm.

2\. Write the chapter and post it /as another fanfic/ with a disclaimer in the description.

3\. Not write it at all and just go with the "Ronin exists okay guess that's a thing" path.

4\. Save it until after SDLPC is finished and then include it in a sort of "bonus features" fanfic. [I don't like this idea much, though, since the story would already be resolved.]

Anyway, sorry for the long A/N but please tell me your thoughts on what I should do! It won't be until after the next chapter anyway, so I have time to collect your feedback.)


	25. Chrome Depot

"Remind me why we're here, again…?" I asked as casually as possible.

"I just need to pick something up," Garmadon responded, the same way he had every other time I'd asked him. "You said they have every kind of shop here, right?"

I looked down the expanse of shops that stretched before us. Cash Street was still decked out in full DOTD gear, and stores were growing ever busier as ghosts prepared for the holiday. By tomorrow evening, however, the streets would be empty— all would be gathered in the park to celebrate the coming of the Departed Lanterns.

"Yes, you should be able to find whatever you need," I said. I wasn't sure exactly why he wanted to keep whatever he was buying a secret, but I wouldn't pry if he was so intent on it. "Anyhow, I'm going to pick up some parts at Chrome Depot. It's towards the middle of the street, on the left side, with a steel sign and a symbol that looks kind of like a metal beach ball."

"Got it. I'll find you when I'm done," Garmadon said, nodding, and went over to a window display, pretending to admire it until I was safely out of eyeshot. At least, I'm pretty certain that's how it went.

I reached Chrome Depot and pulled out the papers tucked away in my inner pocket. As well as Tiya's blueprints, I'd written a list of the pieces I'd need to construct her, as well as some basic supplies I was low on for when I wanted to tinker. I hadn't been in the shop in quite a long time, but I knew my way around. Screws, bolts, and other small versatile parts were near the front, raw metals were in the back right-hand corner, and chewing gum was at the front counter. Lots of inventors liked to chew gum while they worked, apparently.

"Let's see…" I muttered to myself as I followed my list. "Binary power cord, two minuscule flashguns, two size 3-NB shutters, at least four rolls of microfilm to start, a telephoto lens, some sheets of silver to cut out adjustable feathers… hmm, I'm going to need a space for the aperture, perhaps the beak, so I'll have to get a flexible metal for that…"

"Um, sir?" A young worker was standing behind me with one eyebrow raised. "Do you need help finding something?

"Oh, sorry," I apologized, "I was just talking to myself." I slunk down the aisle, a bit embarrassed. I tried to stay focused on my work.

I remembered the first falcon I'd built. I had noticed Zane playing with another one of my inventions and cradling it fondly, and it occurred to me that he needed a companion of his own. Of course, building another android (or nindroid, as Jay had apparently later dubbed him) was out of the question, and would have taken far too long. So I'd opted instead to make him a pet of sorts: another robot that would be as lifelike as he was. I don't really know why I settled on a bird model instead of another animal, but it was good at tracking him and keeping watch over him from the skies.

 _Of course, this time I won't have to deal with those pesky faux feathers,_ I thought to myself in amusement. Making realistic synthetic feathers had taken MANY trials and errors, and I had to create each one by hand. I wasn't about to recreate that process again— metal plates would work just fine for Tiya.

After filling a bag, I double-checked that I had everything on my list and purchased my items. The clerk asked if I'd like to add any gum to my purchase, but I declined. I never did like gum, I was fairly certain Garmadon refused anything that had artificial sweetener (he was very approving of _most_ of my purchases at Trader Godot's), and Morro…

Actually, I wasn't sure about Morro. I made a mental note to ask him later when we met back up with him; currently he was out playing in the park. I wondered in amusement if he was starting another game of pirates with the kids there. It was oddly fitting that he got along so well with the little ones, considering his less-than-mature frame of mind.

"Thank you, come again," called the dull-set voice from the counter as I left the shop. Most workers were either in a constant state of frustration or boredom, especially those who had long work shifts. Personally, I always thought they should just make the best of their situation for their own sake— I always found that being kind and cheerful while working made the work seem significantly less bothersome— but I kept my opinions to myself.

I admired the street decorations and people-watched while I waited for Garmadon to finish with whatever he was purchasing and find me. The whole street was abuzz with good cheer and anticipation for the biggest holiday of the year. Entire groups of friends gossiped and shared memories from their lifetimes, older folks like me complained about their long Nights of Flashback to each other, and a few parents tried to patiently explain to their kids what all the excitement was about. One couple walked out of a store with matching knit sweaters that had lantern patterns on them. That I thought was a bit much, but it was smart of them to buy sweaters— if tradition kept up, the night of DOTD would be freezing.

"There you are," a voice from behind me called. I turned and waved back to Sensei Garmadon, who was holding an opaque bag rather defensively against his chest.

"You find everything you need?" I asked with a smile. I wished I could see what was in the bag, but I restrained myself from trying to peek inside. Curiosity too often got the best of me.

"I did," he said gruffly, with a firm nod. "Shall we start heading home?"

It was a simple thing, but I suddenly found myself unexpectedly overwhelmed with emotion at the last statement.

 _Home._

 _My house is their home._

 _…They are my home now._

Garmadon tapped my shoulder in a concerned manner when I didn't answer. "You okay?"

I pushed aside my sudden bout of sentiment and nodded in affirmation. "…Yes, I'm fine, thank you. Let's head home."

* * *

(A/N: Short chapter this time, but the next one will [hopefully] be longer. Per suggestion, I'll be posting the "special chapter" as usual, on SDLPC, but with a title and A/N explaining that it's a unique one. So, this next one will be be pretty different, but I really hope you guys like it! I've been excited to get to it for a while. As usual, thanks for all your reviews and feedback! My muse is very happy :D)


	26. Another Point of View

(A/N: *Deep breath* Well, here's the "special chapter" I've been making so much fuss about. I've never written from Morro's POV before so I hope you guys approve!)

* * *

I don't like going to the same place twice in a row.

I mean, what's the point? You were just _there._ Nothing is going to have changed— well, unless a store is carrying new merch, I guess, but still. I just don't get how some people can go to the same restaurant for weeks in a row, or have the same thing for breakfast every day, or always make cookies with the exact same recipe. (I guess I'm hungry.)

Anyway, that's why, when Dr. Julien and Garmadad— no, wait, scratch that nickname, that sounds like I'm calling him my dad— went back to Cash Street, I opted to go to the park instead. The park is pretty much my one exception when it comes to visiting places twice in a row, because there's always something new happening.

And something new _did_ happen as I was making my usual rounds from tree to tree. The park seemed way emptier than normal— I guess everyone was out shopping for Dotted— but I slowly became aware of the feeling that I was being watched. I pretended not to notice, but when I spotted a blur of movement behind one of the trees, I flew at it at full speed. There was a yelp of alarm from behind it as the leaves shook from my impact and I knew I'd found my stalker.

"Hey!" I cried, as a little boy took off running from his previous hiding spot. "Come back here!" I caught up with him easily and nabbed him by the back of his shirt, preventing him from escaping.

"Turn around," I demanded. He slowly turned, his eyes full of fear (though I dunno why, I wasn't angry at him). I studied the little scamp carefully. His short black hair was a mess, like it hadn't been brushed in days, and the dark eyes behind his thin-rimmed glasses looked close to tears.

"What's your name?" I asked him, not letting go of his shirt. He didn't answer, just stared up like I was going to hurt him. I was kind of annoyed by that, which surprised me, because I used to not mind getting that look.

"If you don't tell me your name," I said, "I'm going to make one up for you." That oughta have done the trick, but the boy stayed silent.

"Fine," I huffed, "Then you're… four-eyes."

No response.

"Freckle-face?" I tried, realizing that he had light freckles scattered across his pale cheeks.

"How about elephant-ears?" I asked. That one had to get to him: his ears looked like the type kids would make fun of. And they turned light pink as I finally got an answer— well, sort of. He mumbled something under his breath, but I couldn't tell what.

"Kid, you gotta speak up," I sighed. "Look, I ain't gonna hurt you. I just want to know your name."

The boy adjusted his glasses nervously and cast his gaze aside. "…I don't got one," he muttered a little louder.

I cocked my head. "You don't have what? A name?"

He nodded in affirmation. "I died when I w's a baby," he said, looking ashamed of himself. His speech was pretty poor; some of his vowels were cut out, and he seemed to need time to think before everything he said.

"Ah," I said, letting him go. I could just catch him again if he ran away. "Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of. You should've just told me. You a waiting orphan?"

He shook his head. "I been dead a while. Don't get—" he hesitated. "Don't get lante'ns," he said carefully.

"Nobody sends you lanterns? Same here!" I said, putting on a grin and trying not to look threatening. The kid's eyes widened.

"You a… static o'phan too?" he asked. I nodded.

"Yup. Hey, can I ask why your speech is so bad? You look pretty old for the way you talk. Maybe seven or eight."

"Died when I w's a baby," he repeated. "The big bads got me some tea leaf when I a'ived, and I got big. Eight-big. But I can't talk too good cuz I lea'nd to talk by the othe' kids." He seemed to struggle a lot with such a long phrase.

"Oh, so that's why you don't talk much," I said. "And I'm guessing by 'big bads,' you mean the D.O., right?" He nodded. I paused.

"Hey, wait a minute," I said, realizing something, "weren't you one of the guys who joined my pirate game a few days ago?"

He smiled shyly. "Yea. You Mo-oh."

Normally I got mad when people got my name wrong, but this time I just stifled a laugh. "Morro. The name's Morro, Master of Wind. Try to get it right."

He hesitated. "…I can't say that."

"Why not?" I asked. He shook his head.

"Can't say my aw's."

"Your… aw's?" I asked. "Oh, your R's. Well, can't you at least try?"

"If I do," he said in a suddenly panicked voice, "It sounds funny. The othe' o'phans laugh at it."

"Well, it can't be any worse than Mo-oh," I coaxed. He sighed.

"Fine. Mowwow, Mastew of Wind," he said in an annoyed voice. I smirked.

"Okay, you were right, that was worse. But you'll learn. Anyway, why were you watching me?" I asked.

"Cuz you' cool!" he exclaimed. I smiled, pleasantly surprised.

"Well, you're right about that," I said with a grin. "Not everyone realizes it, sadly."

"The othe' o'phans do," he replied. "Alyssa wead— Alyssa saw a sc'oll about you in the lib'a'y. She's seen a lot of sc'olls and books and tells us 'bout them."

"Huh," I said, surprised at the new information but glad to hear that the youth was learning of my awesomeness. "So this Alyssa reads to the other orphans?"

"Uh-huh," the boy said. "She's one of the olde' kids. I am too. Most of the static membe's a' maybe five o' six."

"Static members?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. The boy glanced back and forth to make sure nobody was within earshot, then whispered in a quiet voice,

"Yeah. We got a club! The static o'phans soso— sosy— soci—" He frowned and bit his lip, quitting on the word. I guess he had trouble with more than just his R's.

"Society?" I asked, and he nodded.

"Yea. We have meetin's and eve'ything! Sometimes we buy stuff, too, but not a lot 'cuz none of us got a lot of c'edit."

I frowned and crossed my arms, starting to walk down one of the paths as I talked. The boy obediently followed me. "Why don't you guys have a lot of credit?" I asked.

"We died too young," he replied, "so we can't get jobs, even us who gotta get aged up by tea leaves. We got some c'edit, to live on, but not a lot. The big bads don't seem to like us ve'y much."

"The D.O. don't like me, either," I said, scowling. "Just 'cuz I escaped once back to Ninjago."

"I know about that!" the boy exclaimed, beaming. "Alyssa told us 'bout how you foughted with the othe' ninjas!"

"Ah, hah, yea…" I said. I was still proud of sneaking out of the Departed Realm, but not incredibly proud of what had transpired afterwards. "Anyway, how often does this 'Alyssa' tell you guys stories? Specifically about me."

"She tells us a sto'y eve'y time we get togethe'. But not always a new one. She gets kicked outta the booksto' if she stays too long, she says. So we listen to you' sto'y a lot."

"Awesome," I replied, grinning.

"And the one about the g'een ninja!" he added eagerly. My eyes narrowed.

"…not so awesome. But, whatever," I sighed. We walked a little bit while I decided what question to ask next. I was rather liking this kid so far.

"So, where do you and the other static orphans sleep?" I asked. "Do you have houses of your own, or share them, or what?"

Suddenly, the boy looked pained. He looked down at his feet. "… we 'aven't got houses. None of us," he said. "When it 'ains, we gotta go hide to the fo'est."

I frowned, ignoring his slight speech blunder. "That's not fair. You guys haven't done anything wrong."

He shrugged. "We 'aven't done anything 'ight, eithe'. That's what the big bads say, anyway."

I crossed my arms as anger overtook me. "What? That's ridiculous! That's— that's just stupid!" I cried.

"Yeah," he mumbled, "but we can't say anything." His overly young way of speech suddenly seemed completely overshadowed by an air of solemn frustration, gained through a long many years of being underestimated. It was unbearably familiar.

"That's it," I snarled, "We gotta get back at the D.O. for this. And I thought it was bad that _my_ house was _late_ …" Remembering my situation, I suddenly got an idea.

"Hey, I know," I said, "How about you stay at my house? I could use someone who appreciates my awesomeness."

The boy's jaw dropped. "Weally?" (He then covered up his mouth in embarrassment.)

"Sure," I said. "Well, actually, I'm staying at someone else's house right now, so it might be a little crowded— you might have to sleep on the floor, actually— but it'd still be better than sleeping outside." A small, annoying voice in the back of my mind said I should probably ask Doctor Julien first, but I persuaded it away. He took me and Sensei in, he would definitely want to help someone else, right?

"That'd— that'd be amazing!" the kid cried. I smiled.

"Good. It's settled, then. Come on, I'll show you the way home and we can introduce you to the others when they get there." I internally wondered if Garmadon had been mentioned in any of the stories Alyssa told. If she read scrolls about me, he'd most likely come up in her reading material.

"Oh—" I said, realizing something, "—but you need a name. I can't really introduce you without one. Do static orphans ever name themselves?"

The boy shrugged. "Sometimes. They don't usually catch on, though… o' they change a lot."

"Hmm… then I'll just have to name you," I said, satisfied. "How about Morro Jr.?" I was partially joking, but it would also be _awesome_ to have an official mini-me.

The boy shook his head. "You' name's cool, but I can't say it, 'member? I gotta be able to say my own name."

"Oh. True," I said. "Well… it should at least _sound_ like mine, 'cuz I want people to know you're my fan."

"That'd be good," the boy agreed. I mused for several minutes. Finally, I nodded to myself and said,

"Well… you owe me one for letting you stay with me, so how about… Owen?

The orphan smiled shyly.

"I like that name."

"It's settled, then." I smiled, then reached out and shook the boy's hand firmly. "Nice to meet you, Owen."

* * *

(A/N: I SWEAR I DIDN'T MEAN TO MAKE THIS FIC HAVE SO MANY OC'S I'M SORRY— X'D But tbh, I've had Owen planned out pretty much since I realized SDLPC was going to continue. [That's before I knew Agamya was going to exist!] I really hope his intro doesn't feel forced, but even if it does, don't worry, the focus will still be on the main three characters. Feedback/thoughts/constructive criticism would be appreciated!) (CanyoutellI'mnervouslol)


	27. Anticipation

"…So then when the air funnels through the smaller tubes near the cortex, the oxygen is picked up by the sensors and—"

"You know I can't understand a word you're saying, right?"

Garmadon chuckled and wrapped his arms around himself to ward off the cold as I blushed in embarrassment from having gone off on yet another long scientific tangent. "It sure got chilly all the sudden," he noted as we rounded the corner to our street. ( _Our_ street— I was still getting used to that.)

"You think you're c-cold?" I asked, my hands tucked firmly in my lab coat pockets and a teal scarf wrapped around my neck. "You're the one who meditated to be immune to the weather; imagine how c-cold us normal folk are!"

"Yes, _normal_ indeed," my partner teased, and I barely resisted sticking out my tongue in an imitation of Morro.

"I hope M-Morro turned on the heat already," I said as we started walking up to the house. I was barely able to keep my teeth from chattering.

"If he got here before us, I'm sure he did. And he probably didn't even think to ask permission first," he scoffed.

"Well, anyone with good sense would know they d-didn't need permission to use the heater on a d-day like this," I commented, opening the door. A more than welcome wave of heat pouring out the door let me know that Morro had, in fact, gotten home first.

"Oh, thank g-goodness," I noted, ushering Garmadon inside and quickly shutting the door, "It was f-freezing out there!"

I looked up at Garmadon, expecting him to make some sort of comment about how Morro should've asked permission to turn on the heat, but was surprised to instead see him standing silently in shock. I followed his gaze to see the expected teen sitting in the middle of the living room… with an unexpected smaller boy who looked like he could've been his younger brother.

"Oh— Sensei, Doc—!" Morro exclaimed, his words obviously taking a minute to catch up with his observations. "Uh… hi."

I blinked a few times, then managed to cock my head slightly and answer. "Hello," I said with a somewhat confused smile. "Who's this? I don't remember you saying you had company coming over."

The little boy's eyebrows shot up upon hearing my voice, and he quickly ducked behind Morro as if afraid of us. Seeing him scared like that, I suddenly recognized the child.

"Wait a moment, aren't you that boy from the park?" I asked, interrupting Morro from answering my own question.

The unnamed child peeked out timidly from behind his apparent friend's back. Morro put a hand on his shoulder as if trying to coax him out.

"Um, Doc," he said, addressing me although still looking at the boy, "this is Owen. Owen, this is Doctor Julien, although we call him Sanjay sometimes." He pointed up at Garmadon, who was still frozen in shock. "And that next to him is Sensei Garmadon. We call him lots of things."

"It's nice to meet you—" I started to say, but Garmadon finally found his voice and cut me off.

"What in Ninjago is going on here?" he asked, apparently a little slow on the uptake. "You brought a kid home?"

I laughed a little at the phrasing of that statement. "If Morro wants to have friends over, he can. Although," I said, turning to the teen, "I do wish you would've told me first. I would have brought something for him."

The little boy's eyes shifted nervously back and forth across the carpet. Morro's mimicked him.

"Um… yea, I'll definitely ask next time," he said, in a tone of voice suggesting that there was still something he wasn't telling me. I raised my eyebrow as if to ask what that was and he cleared his throat.

"Yea, actually…" he said, and I stole a glance at Garmadon's face, which screamed 'there's more?!'

"I was wondering," he continued, in a much more uncertain tone than was normal for him, "if we could let Owen crash here for a while. He's a static orphan," he quickly explained. Garmadon looked like he could hardly believe his ears, but he managed to respond to the question anyway.

"And what's wrong with Owen's own home?" he asked, folding his arms like Morro was an irresponsible kid who had just asked for a dog. (Actually, come to think of it, that analogy was pretty close to what was actually happening.)

"He doesn't have one," Morro replied quickly; I noticed he avoided using the word 'ain't'. "Actually, he didn't have a name when I met him, either. I named him." He looked up at me nervously, as if pleading for me to defend his case against Garmadon. Which was odd, considering I saw Garmadon as his real care-taker, but I suppose it was _my_ house being debated about.

"Well," I said slowly, looking first at Garmadon's unapproving glare and then at Morro's nervous gaze, "I suppose… we could fit one more person… although you'll have to share the couch," I said. Morro bit his lip but nodded hopefully, still stealing silent, nervous glances at Garmadon. Owen's eyes lit up, but he didn't speak either, following the older boy's lead.

"…I'm glad you want to help someone in need," the sensei finally said, "but I really wish that didn't come at the price of intruding on Dr. Julien's hospitality."

"I'll take Owen myself when I get my own pad, promise," Morro said quickly. This surprised me: I wouldn't have placed him as the type to immediately agree to take on the burden of housing a homeless child, even just for a while.

"Well, that's very admirable of you," I said after a moment of thought. "But next time, _do_ ask me first. You know I wouldn't deny you a request of such helpfulness, you know that, right?" It was a gentle command, but Morro closed his eyes and nodded seriously, in an almost shameful manner.

"…Well then," I said after a pause. I walked over and sat down next to Morro; Garmadon followed my lead. The little boy's— Owen's— expression had changed throughout the course of the conversation, but I had yet to hear him speak a single word. I smiled at him reassuringly. "If we're going to be staying together, I'd like to at least know what your voice sounds like."

"Oh," Morro said, "I forgot to tell you. He doesn't like talking much— his speech is pretty bad."

I was deciding whether to scold Morro for being so blunt or reassure the boy that I wouldn't mind however he sounded, when the silent child suddenly said—

"N-no, it's a'ight."

I flinched a little, startled, and Garmadon did the same. The boy paused, then slowly crawled out from behind Morro.

"I seen you," he said slowly to me. I felt like his dark eyes were staring directly into my soul— well, I suppose they were, but it was an unnerving feeling. "You ain't gonna side with the big bads, a' you? You' a kind man."

"He means the Departed Officials," Morro explained quickly.

I paused, considering his point slowly. "That would depend on the situation," I said finally. Owen nodded, satisfied. Morro looked a little more at ease seeing him do so.

"Well, I guess we should start making dinner, now," Garmadon said, looking out the glass doors as if they were windows. The sun was slowly starting to sink behind the tall tree out back. "It's getting kind of late… and tomorrow is a big day."

Morro jerked his head up. "I almost forgot! Dotted is tomorrow!"

"How could you forget?" I chuckled. "You've been talking about it nonstop all week."

"True— awww, no!" he cried. "We never bought any cookies."

"There will be plenty of cinnamon cookies at the party tomorrow," I assured him. "There always are."

"That may be true," Garmadon interrupted, "but we won't have to wait that long." Lo and behold, out of the shopping bag he'd never put down, he pulled out a box of official DOTD cinnamon cookies. (Considering the bag still looked full, I assumed he'd purchased more than one such box.) Morro lit up like a lantern and Owen's eyes widened like he'd just been shown treasure.

"Consider it an apology present," Garmadon said gruffly, tossing the box to Morro, who immediately started tearing it open. "And don't eat too many before dinner or—"

"If you say I'll spoil my appetite," Morro said, pulling out a cookie the size of his hand and shoving it into his mouth, "you're crazy."

I chuckled and reached out a hand expectantly; Morro huffed but handed me a cookie from the box, and then did the same for Owen, who looked like he'd just been handed a million dollars. The poor thing was probably starving.

"Well then," Garmadon announced, heading into the kitchen and bringing the rest of the boxes with him, "I'm going to start making dinner." He turned around and smiled expectantly at me. "Is my sous-chef going to help me out or not?"

I couldn't contain my smile as I followed him into the kitchen, taking a bite out of the pre-celebratory treat in my hand. "You can count on me."

* * *

(A/N: Oh no I saw a post today about Ninjago getting close to ending and nO IT'S TOO EARLY TO PANIC I GOTTA CALM DOWN X'D WE'RE NOT EVEN ON S9 YET JEEZ X'D Anyway, the reason I bring it up is... well... we've only got a few chapters of SDLPC left, too. _Long_ chapters, at least according to plan, but only a few. I said long ago that I came up with an ending of SDLPC to work towards and honestly, I'm really excited for it, if not extremely anxious and also sad because I don't want it to end. I have SO many things I want to say. But, like Ninjago itself, I'm not going to get too emotional yet because we've still got a bit longer before we have to panic. So, for now... cheers, my friends, and let's enjoy the rest of the ride.)


	28. Tradition and Celebration

_My name is Doctor Julien, and I am 90 years old. Right now I am sitting in a hospital bed, hooked up to countless devices that I'm simultaneously very impressed by and very worried about. It seems to me like technology is advancing faster than the minds of those creating it nowadays, but I suppose I'm one to talk. And anyhow, the problems of this world are no longer my own._

 _I look around me at the many faces gathered around my bedside. I am smiling, but they are not. The room is silent: nobody seems to know what to say. That's okay. I remember how it felt to witness my mother's death. The helplessness and sadness at a time like this are overwhelming— but they weigh much more heavily on the onlookers than on the dying. I finally understand that now._

 _"Father…"_

 _I look up at my son with what I hope is a comforting smile. He is trying to contain his emotions, but his blue eyes betray him. His eyes… I'm so proud of them. The thin layers of water covering their glass surfaces only enhance their shine._

 _"Zane." I take his hand and grasp it in my own, holding it tight. My hand is so frail and wrinkled, showing years of use and misuse. But his is still perfect, the skin upon it as flawless and smooth as the day he first awoke."You have been the perfect son."_

 _He shakes his head violently, and some of his brothers look at him in concern. I spoke with the elder members of our group earlier; now only the young ones remain, as I have requested._

 _"No," he replies, his voice shaking, "I am far from perfect."_

 _I shake my head, my smile saddened but still fully intact. "You will understand one day," I reassure him. "You have been the best son I could ever ask for."_

 _He tries to reply, but chokes on his own words._

 _"It's okay," I whisper after a pause. "I built you with the ability to cry for a reason." He blinks hard, still trying to contain his tears. I am concerned for him, but my concern is somewhat relieved when I see his free hand being discreetly intertwined with that of Kai's, who is standing nearest him. He has good brothers; I know they will help him to bear the time ahead. He will not be crushed by loss, as I was: knowing that he has a good life ahead of him greatly comforts me._

 _The room is absent of words spoken out loud, as nobody seems to know what to say, but the thoughts here are plenty loud enough for me. I consider cracking a joke about the silence, but decide it would perhaps be best not to. Zane and the others have grown much, but they are still far from understanding the triviality of death. So I just smile quietly at the faces around me. I might not have had the best life, but I certainly didn't have the worst— and this is a pretty good way to go out._

 _"I love you, Father," Zane whispers through a cracked voice. I squeeze his hand and beam up at him._

 _"I love you, too, Zane. And don't you worry, I'll be watching over you— all of you." I am referring to the others in the room, but my eyes remain locked on his until they grow weary. Then I close them for what will probably be the final time. I hear a tension in the room and smile, rubbing Zane's hand affectionately, but do not open my eyes. I am busy listening to the faint ticking of the clock on the hospital wall._

 _Tick, tock. Tick, tock._

 _I don't know why I ever hated that sound. It's really rather symbolic. Mechanical and predictable, yet signifying not only the passing of time but the passing of memories. In some ways, it is the sound of love and logic, passion and knowledge, feeling and wisdom. Or, as in this room, of old and young._

 _These last few years, I think, have been the best of my life. Not everyone is so lucky. Most people hit their prime well before their 30s and feel that life only goes downhill from there. I'm much happier with how things have worked out for me: this is like ending a meal on a really good dessert. Mm, dessert. I hope they have that in the afterlife. I bet they will._

 _There is a smile on my face as I feel myself rising. I know if I opened my eyes, I could see my body, which sounds really cool, but I don't want my son crying to be the last thing I see. No, I'm going to think about the past few weeks, instead. The ones where we went out and did things, before I was stuck in here, although just sitting and talking with my daily visitors hasn't at all been bad either._

 _The ticking of the clock fades away along with all the white noise of life. True silence is something I have never experienced in my life, and it's quite the experience. I wonder if anyone still alive will ever think about just how noisy life usually is. Probably not, but it'd be interesting if they did._

 _This is a good way to die._

 _I am happy._

* * *

I woke up feeling a bit lightheaded, with the vague impression of being hungover. (Yes, I tried alcohol once in my lifetime; it was not a pleasant experience.) However, I quickly designated the feelings as normal once I realized what day it was: the morning of DOTD always brought such feelings about, and they always faded by midday. DOTD in the Departed Realm was, in fact, a more unique holiday than any I knew of in Ninjago, because it contained within it three phases that always brought about the same three moods: the lightheadedness and reflection of the morning (those with uneventful lives often suffer from regret during this time), the anticipation and excitement of the day, and the magic and emotion of the night.

I dressed myself in my normal attire, shoving my scarf and an untouched pair of gloves into my pockets (the night of DOTD had a reputation of the cold), and got myself out of bed. I noticed that getting out of bed had gotten considerably easier lately, although I still never wanted to leave the warmth of the covers.

Walking to the kitchen, I almost stumbled over my roommate, who was meditating quietly in the middle of the hallway. Thankfully, the sensei had incredible (I would say inhuman) reflexes, and was on his feet and able to stabilize me before I actually fell.

"Sorry!" I yelped, a little louder than was appropriate for the time of morning. I was too embarrassed about my clumsiness to ask why Garmadon had been meditating in the first place.

"No, no, that was my fault," he said quickly, brushing himself off. He chuckled lightly. "Sitting in the middle of a walkway was probably not my best idea."

"Well, we're all a little tired this morning," I pointed out, not really thinking about Garmadon's situation of death until after I'd already made the statement. I winced: it must have been a trying Night of Flashback for him, especially considering that Morro was still here…

"Say, is Morro awake yet?" I asked gingerly once the subject came to mind. Garmadon smiled and shook his head.

"He's on the couch with— what was his name?"

"Owen," I said.

"Yes, Owen. They looked quite peaceful together; I didn't want to wake them up. Hence why I was meditating in the hallway instead of the living room" he explained, and seemed genuinely happy for the two. I was intrigued and very much wished to see what kind of scene could have provoked _Garmadon_ into letting Morro be, but I supposed I wouldn't be able to do so without waking them myself.

"By the way," Garmadon asked in a hushed tone, "are there any traditional dishes for Day of the Departed? I thought perhaps it would be fun to start the day with something special."

I grinned. "Indeed there are," I confirmed, already excited thinking about how well Garmadon would probably be at preparing the dish. "We'll have dinner at the party tonight—"

"Party?" he asked.

"I'll explain over breakfast," I said. "But there is a traditional breakfast dish many people make for the holiday. It's called a _Dragon Dreamer;_ it's something like a strawberry pastry with cream."

"Sounds more like a dessert than a breakfast food," Garmadon said, but I could tell he was excited by the idea.

"Hey, it's a holiday dish," I said with a wink. "Anyhow, I know I have all the ingredients for it, so we should be good to go once Morro and Owen wake up."

As it turns out, we didn't have long to wait. A few minutes of chatting later, the living room light flicked on and a tired Morro waltzed into the hallway with the younger boy in tow.

"'Mornin'," he greeted in a tone that was more drunk than hungover. "Why'r'n't you in the kitchen?"

"We didn't want to wake you," I explained, ignoring the contraction of four words at once. (Would that count as a double contraction or a quadruple contraction?)

"Well, breakfast ain't gonna make itself," he yawned, and the little boy looked at him with concern.

"Owen, you don't seem tired," I remarked. "Did you have a good night's sleep?"

He nodded. "I don't see Nights a' Flatback o' whateve' they called," he explained. "I died befo' I could 'membe' anything."

"I see," I said, nodding nonchalantly although I was saddened by this fact. Maybe Owen didn't have to deal with Nights of Flashback, but I didn't think that was worth dying at such a young age.

"Doc," Morro said, getting my attention. I turned to him.

"Yes?"

"We makin' fancy food?" he asked hopefully. I laughed and nudged Garmadon.

"Well?" I asked the sensei. He smirked slightly.

"Yes, we are, Morro," he confirmed. Morro fist-pumped and followed us into the kitchen, and Owen tagged along eagerly, clinging to Morro like a shadow.

"The first ingredient we'll need…" I started as our group made its way into the (now _thoroughly_ too small) kitchen.

Twenty minutes, two boxes of strawberries, several bowls of pastry dough, a can of heavy cream, and a number of other items later, our odd quartet managed to pull off a rather impressive-looking feast of celebratory treats to set on the table. Well, Garmadon and I did most of the cooking, but Morro and Owen helped occasionally, too.

"I have to say, you did a marvelous job with these," I said, admiring the _almost_ too-pretty-to-eat pastries, "especially considering you've never made this dish before."

"Well," Garmadon said with a smile, "you're a good teacher."

As we dug into the food, Owen leaned over and whispered something in Morro's ear. The older teen snickered, looking thoroughly delighted to have someone to talk to that was closer to his age— or, at least physically; I had no idea how old Owen technically was. I considered bringing it up, but decided against it.

"Thi'th i'th AMAZING!" the young boy squeaked as he shoved the first few bites of food into his mouth. I smiled, and Garmadon looked rather proud of himself.

"I'm glad you like it," he stated, but the boy didn't give a response, as he was too busy ravenously devouring the rest of his treat.

"I agree," Morro said casually, looking less hungover as he continued to eat. "This stuff is to die for."

It was a cliché joke, but I still almost choked on my pastry from laughter.

"So," Garmadon said, turning towards me, "you said something earlier about a party."

"Ah, yes!" I exclaimed. "The annual Day of the Departed celebration." I paused to take another bite of my food, then started explaining the events of the day.

"For the most part of the day, people have private celebrations with their family and friends. Some hold parties at their houses, but it's usually a very personal event. Anyhow, about an hour before sunset, the park will open to the public— it's cordoned off right now— and the dance floor will have been set up."

"There's a dance floor in the park?" Garmadon asked, raising an eyebrow. Morro shushed him.

"Yes, and a wide variety of music through the ages," I continued. "There are also tables set up with free food, which is kind of a huge deal, although there are Departed Officials standing by to make sure everything is regulated." Owen hissed under his breath, so I quickly changed the subject. "There are some games set up, too, although mostly nobody plays them. Actually, the whole thing is rather like a school carnival, now that I'm explaining it out loud," I admitted, thinking back to my college days and the underwhelming amount of school spirit they contained. "But the real event of the evening doesn't start until midnight."

"Oh, no," Garmadon said with somewhat of a chuckle, "I'm not sure I'll be able to stay up that long."

I expected Morro to make an obvious joke on his age, but instead he smirked and opted to comment, "Trust me, once you've had a few sips of punch you'll last allllll night."

"That's when the lanterns are brought in, right?" Garmadon asked with a hopeful expression on his face.

"Yes, although they aren't so much 'brought in' as they let themselves in. They float up through the ground and find their way to a spot on or surrounding the Central Willow, which looks absolutely breathtaking once all they've all arrived. Then everyone is allowed to go find their lantern— don't look so worried, you'll feel sort of a tug leading you in the right direction— and upon holding it, they'll be updated on the lives of those who sent them."

"And how does that work, exactly?" Garmadon asked.

"Well… it's somewhat hard to explain. You see what has happened, but not _all_ of it, yet by the time you've finished the experience you know everything that has transpired, and although it feels long it actually only takes about ten minutes. Really, it's rather magical, I have yet to figure out all the science behind it, but it's something you have to experience to—" I barely realize to cut myself off in time, seeing the faces of Morro and Owen.

"Of course," I amend, my tone now more forlorn, "there are always those who do not have lanterns sent up…"

"It's fine," Morro said, trying to shrug it off. "In my opinion, _this_ beats some flying piece of origami any day." He took another big bite of his breakfast, finishing it off.

"Well… anyway," I said hesitantly, "we've got a while to wait before all the dancing and free dinner. I think I'm going to do some more work on my project. I have all the materials I need; building it should take no time at all."

"Ooh, the bird thing?" Morro asked eagerly. I raised an eyebrow at him. "I may or may not have stolen a peek at your blueprints," he admitted with a smirk. "Anyway, I wanna watch! I love birds."

"That's not surprising," Garmadon commented, finishing his own breakfast and standing up to stretch. "You two have fun. I'm going to continue my book for a while… but I was thinking after that, perhaps we could introduce Owen to a tradition or two?"

Morro flashed a grin. "I like where this is headed."

"Is a game of Escape From Dark Island in hand?" I asked, smiling over at the bewildered little boy who was trying to make sense of our excitement.

"I think so," Garmadon confirmed. "So, books, birds, games, and then… dancing?" I got the feeling he was going to say lanterns, but was glad he opted to change his mind. I nodded in affirmation and Morro held up a fist cheerily.

"To Dotted!" he exclaimed. Garmadon, Owen, and I smiled and replied in unison.

"To Dotted!"

* * *

(A/N: I'm adding an A/N even though I don't have anything to say because it seems like not a lot of people are seeing this chapter...? Or just not reviewing, I guess? I dunno, I'm probably being overly paranoid but I just wanna make sure that the chapter's notifications are getting sent and that FF isn't glitching on me. CuzhonestlyI'mreallyproudofthischapterandI'manattentionhogand—) (Also Game of Masks came out last night/today, and it was SICK! :O)


	29. DOTD: The Beginning

"I still don't see why we couldn't wake her up," Morro said in an overly disappointed voice. I chuckled as our group of four walked along in the brisk evening air. Our conversation, for once, was not surrounded by silence; as everyone in the Departed Realm was heading to the same place we were at _some_ point in the night, we actually had quite a bit of company surrounding us. Other groups, mostly families, intermingled and sometimes even appeared to join together, although we kept a bit of distance between ourselves and the mobs of people. I was not usually very good at focusing in such large groups, but it helped to walk in the middle, with Garmadon to my left and Morro and Owen to my right.

"I told you, it's a matter of early childhood development. I want to be fully attentive to Tiya for her first few days of life, and the biggest holiday of the year is certainly not a good time for that." I resisted adding a comment about how much attention I'd paid to Zane, and how well _he'd_ turned out.

"Hmph," Morro huffed, but there wasn't any real bite to his voice: even he couldn't stay grumpy while surrounded by so much festive cheer.

"A' we close?" Owen asked, in the same voice he'd asked three times already. He hardly struck me as an impatient child, but it did seem to frustrate him that he couldn't see where we were going through the legs of all the ghosts surrounding us. I chuckled.

"We're closer than the last time you asked," I answered with a slight smirk. Owen didn't respond and turned his head to watch one of the groups passing by.

"Actually," Garmadon announced in a gruff voice, "I think we might be closer than we thought."

Peering over the masses of people, I could see the entrance to the park just a little ways away, decked out with the same kinds of fake lanterns that decked Cash Street. The excitement in the air became palpable as other groups started pointing it out to each other, too: the holiday was starting.

"A' we gonna play anothe' game?" Owen asked, getting on his tiptoes to tug at Morro's sleeve. Morro looked at me.

"If you want to," I replied with a smile. "Although the sort of games they host in the park are much shorter than the one we played at the house."

"That was the best game!" Owen exclaimed. He mimicked a pirate thrusting a sword in the air. "Onwa'd to the t'eas'es!"

I restrained a laugh as I shared a look with Garmadon. At one point while playing Escape From Dark Island, Morro had announced in an overly enthusiastic voice, "Onward to the treasures!" and Owen had unsuccessfully tried to copy him. It was adorable, though, so we'd kept saying the phrase and now it was apparently our catchphrase for the game.

"Onward to the treasures, indeed!" Garmadon responded, pointing to the park with a smile. It was nice to see him in a more relaxed mood.

Once the slow-moving mass of people got through the brightly lit entrance to the park, we were greeted by a spectacular display of pop-up game tents, mostly themed to fit the occasion. They were still the same old games, though— pop-the-balloon, knock-over-the-cans, and the physically impossible ring-the-bottle.

"Hey, isn't that the rigged game?" Morro asked, pointing at ring-the-bottle.

"Oh, maker of plastic bricks, they have that _here,_ too?" Garmadon asked, raising his eyebrows at the impossible carnival game.

"What's a wigged game?" Owen asked, not noticing his speech impediment slipping through.

"It's a game that's harder to win than it looks," I replied, then added, "usually because of some hidden factors that the people running the game don't tell you about."

"Yea, but I bet I can still beat it," Morro bragged, starting to walk over to the stand.

"Okay, but you're using your own credit for that," I warned.

"Not like it's transferrable, anyway!" he called back, already receiving his rigged pole from the man working the counter. The poor man kept fervently checking his watch, and I didn't blame him: those with the bad luck to have to work on DOTD were given shifts so they didn't miss the entire evening, and apparently he was anxious to get his over with.

I watched as the black-haired teen hovered his pole tensely over the rows of bottles, scanning them for… whichever one was easiest to ring, I suppose, although they were all identical.

"Hey, Garmadude," he suddenly called behind him, and the sensei raised an eyebrow at the casual-but-not-quite-rude nickname.

"Um… yes?" he asked.

"You ever seen anyone win one of these?" Morro responded. I wondered why he was just now asking, if he wanted to ascertain his chances of winning.

"Of course not," Garmadon replied, and before he could continue he was cut off by a cheerfully confident,

"Then you're about to!"

With the skill of a master pickpocket and the accuracy of a pro archer, Morro swiftly dropped the ring over the oversized neck of one of the bottles and lifted it in the air like it was a fish on a line. The man running the stand gaped as he showed it off to us. Garmadon stared for a few seconds, then asked suspiciously,

"…Did you cheat?"

Morro laughed and lowered the bottle as the still-awestruck worker rung up his credit digitally. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"That was amazing!" Owen squealed, apparently picking up from my and Garmadon's reactions that what he'd just accomplished was actually much harder than it looked.

"And that's just the beginning," Morro laughed, walking over and rejoining our group. "The real fun of tonight starts now!"

I surveyed the entirety of the park in front of us and found that he was right. The rows of games lining the edges near the entrance were just the intro to the park's festivities: most of the crowds had already gathered in the biggest inner section of the park, talking and laughing in one big huddle. To the very left were rows and rows of free food tables, all of which were completely crowded, and in the far back was the dance stage, where a few young children were currently dancing to the music of chattering voices as their parents watched them from the sidelines. Several tall banners sporting dragons and messages like "Happy DOTD!" were placed around the park to serve as meeting spots, and in the center of the whole, vast expanse was the Central Willow. It was as tall as the night was festive, and its green leaves draped down in huge, elegant curtains, prompting several teenagers to play hide-and-seek tag by weaving in and out of them. The whole thing gave off a vibrant feeling of life, which was sometimes hard to come by in the land of the dead. Taking my gaze off the tree and looking to the left of me, I noticed Garmadon staring at the scene in awe.

"Why have we never come to this section of the park before?" he asked.

"Well, we wanted it to be special for your first time," I said teasingly, the obvious reason being nobody had ever asked to visit it. Then I added, "Just wait until the lanterns light it up. All the leaves turn gold and the whole thing looks like it glows from the inside out."

"That sounds cool an' all," Owen interrupted, "but can we get food now? I haven' eaten since lunch."

Morro laughed and high-fived his little buddy. "You read my mind, kid."

I chuckled. "Of course. Let's head over to the tables."

Due to the crowds of people, it took us somewhat of a long time to do so, although the tables weren't very far away. Immediately around the tables it was even busier— there wasn't a free spot in sight— but eventually we were sucked into the flow of people and starting piling up our paper plates with all the decadences the tables had to offer. Departed Officials were standing by, frequently radioing each other to bring more of this item or that, and Owen seemed unnerved every time we passed them, but he was easily distracted by the temptations of dinner.

The food, as was to be expected for the biggest holiday of the year, was fabulous in variety, quantity, and size. Crab-cakes, veggie trays, and chips-and-dip lined one table, while steaks, quesadillas, and salmon fillets filled the next. About half of the tables (the ones toward the back) were devoted to desserts alone, boasting so many different dishes I didn't even recognize some of them. Rice puddings, sweet puddings, fruit pies, milkshakes, chocolate truffles, iced cakes, warm pastries, topped ice cream, candied nuts, glazed doughnuts, cream-filled eclairs— anything a hungry ghost could possibly dream up was laid out in plentiful proportions, demanding only a small degree of patience as payment.

After we had filled our plates with as much food as we could cram onto them (Morro took two plates so he could sandwich them together and hold more food), we walked over and found ourselves a place to sit on the grass. The entire stretch from the free food tables to the dance floor had kind of been unofficially determined as the eating area, where groups like ours sat and ate their dinner on the ground, picnic-style.

All of us were more than eager to eat, but Owen was ravenously hungry, despite having eaten large portions earlier in the day. If I'd thought Morro was a hoarder when it came to food…

"You might want to slow down a little," Garmadon advised the small black-haired boy, who was shoving more food into his mouth than could possibly fit in his tiny body.

"I'm fine!" he mumbled through a mouthful of pastry.

I, myself, had chosen a similar kind of pastry as him, as well as a turkey sandwich, a serving of rice, and a large selection of cream puffs with little dragon designs stamped onto them.

"Of all the stuff you could've chosen…" Morro said disapprovingly, tossing a piece of lobster meat into his mouth. His entire plate seemed to be seafood-themed.

"What can I say? I like comfort food," I laughed sheepishly.

"I jus' like food," Owen commented.

We were interrupted by a loud announcement echoing through the park that the sun was setting and so the music would now begin. The sky was dark and unusually cloudy (DOTD was always cold, but I couldn't recall one that hadn't had clear skies), so most of the sunset was blocked out, but it was exciting nonetheless. A large number of people started shuffling past us on their way to the dance floor.

"Where are the speakers?" Garmadon asked, looking around.

"Hmm? Oh, there are none," I chuckled. "The guy running the music is a previous Master of Sound. He volunteers to help out every year. I met him once. Nice fellow."

"The sun's set?" Owen asked, suddenly looking up at the sky alarmed.

"Yes, why?" I asked, a bit worried at his abrupt change in tone. He hesitated, then whispered something to Morro.

"He says there's some kind of—" Morro started, but Owen cut him off.

"It's a _secwet,"_ he hissed, his impediment slipping through again.

"Don't worry," Morro reassured him, "you can trust the doc." Then, looking at me, he explained, "There's this secret meeting thing Owen and the other orphans have on DOTD. Can he go?"

I smiled. "That sounds like lots of fun. Of course you may… but I'd feel better if Morro went with you."

Owen's eyes lit up. "Yea, you can come! You' a static o'phan, too! The othe's will love to see you!"

"A whole group of people who appreciate my awesomeness? Count me in," Morro said with a grin. "Just lemme finish my food."

The smaller child nodded and ate at double his previous speed, explaining through bites of food, "It's not in the pa'k— can't tell you whe' it is— it's a sec'et— but you' gonna love it!"

After the boys finished their food, they gave their thanks, promised to meet back up with us after the lanterns (I was saddened by the reminder that they had no reason to attend), and ran off into the night.

"Those two are good for each other," I commented to Garmadon as we watched them run away.

He mused on the point for a minute, then nodded, saying, "I suppose so." He looked up towards the dance floor, where the majority of people now were (although the free food tables were still full).

"Do you dance?" he asked me. I laughed and shook my head, embarrassed.

"Oh, no, I'm a terrible dancer."

"Have you ever tried?" he asked.

"Well, no, but—"

"Then you can't very well say you aren't any good at it!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "If one never tries, one can never succeed."

"Alright, alright," I said, rolling my eyes, "I actually _did_ try once. It's just not an entirely pleasant memory to recall, since… you know… I wasn't any good at it."

"Oh?"

"It was the one and only time I actually attended a school dance," I chuckled.

"This sounds promising," Garmadon joked, pulling some grapes apart from their bunch. "Do go on."

"Well, there's not a whole lot to tell. I didn't really want to be there in the first place, and when I did arrive you would've thought I was an alien— everyone kept staring at me and whispering. I was quite the bookworm, so I suppose it was of some shock to see me at a school dance… and to be honest, it was probably fair comeuppance that I proved to be so bad at dancing. Most of the students there were less than fond of me. I suppose I was… not the most polite student. And I always wrecked the curve."

"So why _were_ you there?" Garmadon asked.

"Ah, well, my friend Agamya forced me to come—"

"Ooh, this _friend_ wouldn't happen to be the girl you mentioned previously, would they?" The grin on Garmadon's face was that of a teenage boy's. One thing I've learned while being dead is that no matter how old people get, there are some things that just never change. I laughed nervously and shifted in the grass.

"Er, yes, that would be her…"

He popped another grape in his mouth excitedly. "So she forced you to come to the dance. What then?"

"What do you think? She forced me to dance," I laughed sheepishly. His eyebrows shot up.

"Really? _You_ danced with a _girl?"_ he asked in mock surprise.

"Oh, hush!" I ribbed him for teasing me, which he responded to by stealing a cream puff off my plate.

"Well, regardless," he said, after finishing off his food, "it's been at least 50 years. You should try again!"

"76," I clarified, processing the calculation immediately. "I graduated when I was 19."

"…but you still couldn't dance?"

"Are you trying to be inspirational or not?!"

The gray-haired man laughed, then took my hand, helping me stand. "Oh, come on. We're going to the dance floor, whether you like it or not."

I tried weakly to protest, but I soon gave up and let him drag me over to the massive arena, where long-outdated pop music was currently playing. I tried to calm my nerves by convincing myself that if Garmadon forced me to dance, I'd force him to do the same, and then at least we'd be made fools of together. Or he'd be really good at dancing and draw all the attention.

"Wow, quite a crowd here…" he remarked, squeezing through a thick layer of onlookers to a somewhat less-dense area.

"Indeed it is," I commented back, surveying the competition. There were too many people watching the dancers for my comfort, but at least some of the groups weren't paying attention, instead opting to talk to each other or point at things around the park. I focused on one such group of girls— well, older woman, actually, perhaps in their 70s— who were all wearing matching scarves, save for one. My mind immediately started pondering the different reasons why. The most probable answer was that she was part of a different group and had gotten lost; or perhaps she wasn't cold (although I quickly discarded _that_ idea, it was freezing). Unfortunately, a brown-haired girl in the group noticed me staring and apparently got the wrong idea, tapping the non-scarf woman on the shoulder. I was about to turn away, but she turned first, as did Garmadon when he noticed I'd stopped walking, and I caught a glimpse of her face.

I froze.

"Sanjay?" Garmadon asked in a worried tone. He followed my eyes to find me locked in an unintentional staring match with a silvery-haired, teal-eyed older woman with nothing more than a long-sleeved shirt and leggings to keep her warm on the coldest night of the year.

Garmadon's eyebrows raised at the same time as the girls' who were surrounding the odd one out. _"Is that him?"_ I overheard one of them whisper. Garmadon heard, too, and turned to me with wide eyes.

"…That's her?"

I forgot how to respond. Although obviously everyone was going on as normal, it felt to me like the whole Departed Realm was holding its breath as I tried to kick my brain back into functioning. Finally, after what had to be at _least_ a full minute of awkward silence, I took a step forward and held out my hand awkwardly.

"…It's been a long time."

I didn't have time to ponder how stupid of a I-haven't-seen-you-since-I-was-alive-and-our-last-conversation-was-a-fight greeting that was before the woman in front of me nodded once and accepted my awkward handshake.

"…Hello, Sanjay."

* * *

(A/N: guess who's back

back again)


	30. DOTD: The Middle

Pop music faded out as the DJ chose the next song on his soundtrack. The dance floor behind us rotated out its dancers. The smells of good food floated through the air. Dark clouds rolled lazily overhead.

And I stood like a tree planted firmly in place and then frozen in a block of ice by my son.

"So it is him." Thankfully, I didn't have to come up with something else to say before a darker skinned lady wearing one of the groups' matching knit scarves (green with orange dragons) stepped forward and addressed me with a glare.

"Er… it's nice to meet you," I said hastily, offering my hand for a handshake. She didn't take it as well as my old friend did.

"Tiana, please," she said to the angry woman quietly.

"Well?" a redhead in the back suddenly exclaimed. She looked like she'd been trying not to say anything and had reached her breaking point. "Aren't you gonna introduce us?!"

"Right, sorry," the blonde replied hastily. She turned back to me and gestured at each of her friends. "Sanjay, this is Manda—" (the redhead curtsied)— "This is Alina—" (a smaller woman who couldn't have been over 50 waved nervously)— "This is Lynn and Linda, and they like being introduced at the same time so I'm not being rude—" (two women whom I could now recognize as twins jabbed each other playfully)— "and this is Tiana, our boss." Tiana, the dark-skinned woman, simply scowled at me. I glanced over at Garmadon, hoping maybe he'd use some of his intimidation powers back. He didn't get the cue.

"It's nice to meet you all," I said, attempting an awkward bow. Then, gesturing to Garmadon, I said, "This is my friend, Sensei Garmadon, and I'm Sanjay."

"Garmadon?" I heard someone whisper. "As in—" Someone else shushed her.

"And you're Agamya, correct?" Garmadon asked in a straightforward fashion. The teal-eyed woman nodded.

"So you've heard of me, too," Agamya said, and seemed to glance sideways at me for a split second.

"Not much," Garmadon admitted. "Sanjay here gets a little dodgy whenever we try to ask about you."

"We?" one of the twins asked, but she was unheard as the redhead (Manda?) squealed loudly,

"No way! Agamya does the same thing when we ask about you! It took us, like, two years to even get your _name!"_

"Manda, please—" Agamya started.

The redhead was now bouncing up and down at an improbable pace. "You guys are _definitely_ soulmates!"

I didn't even have time to process that statement before the scarier lady punched Manda in the shoulder.

"What she _means_ to say," she growled, "is that we'd like to hear your side of the story. More specifically, why you hurt Agamya."

"Tiana, he didn't—" Agamya started, but I cut her off. At least someone had finally said something I had a response to.

"Unfortunately, I can't say I had much of a good reason," I sighed. "If you're referring to the last conversation we had, which you've apparently been informed about, I suppose I was hurting from the loss of my mother… but I don't have an excuse for acting the way I behaved." I took a deep breath, wondering to myself where that little burst of eloquence had come from and hoping it stayed with me.

"What he's _trying_ to say," Garmadon said in a tone that mimicked Tiana's, "is that he's sorry and he wants to dance."

"What?!" I yelped as he nudged me. Thankfully, Agamya seemed hesitant, too.

"I really don't think that's—" she started, but Manda angrily spun her around.

"You've had a whole lifetime to get over your stage fright! You're dancing, whether you like it or not!"

"Stage fright?" I asked in confusion, as Garmadon grinned and said something I couldn't quite catch to Manda.

"She's right! You're going up there!" one of the twins exclaimed, and started pushing Agamya onto the dance floor. Garmadon did the same with me.

"I think you've found your people," I groaned, not trying to fight his far superior physical strength as he flung me onto the huge, crowded arena.

"Come on, you're the fun parent," he teased, and quickly separated himself from me by running off with Agamya's apparent friends.

"Fun parent?" Agamya asked, raising an eyebrow as the current song ended and the dancers around us stopped running into us.

"Oh, no, he didn't mean my actual son— I mean, I do have a son, back on Ninjago, but he's not— well, he's an android—" I sighed. "It's a long story."

"Seems like it," she said, and the faintest trace of a smile came back to her face. It hit me that it had been forever since I'd seen her smile.

"So…" I said awkwardly, "what was all that about you having stage fright? That's certainly not the Agamya I know."

"Well, I'm no spring chicken anymore," she laughed nervously, pointing to her silvery hair. "I'm not a great dancer."

"Your friends made it sound like you'd had stage fright all your life," I countered. "And, by the way, you're not allowed to make jokes about your age." I winked and she laughed, for real this time.

"So when _did_ you die?" she asked. "I haven't seen you around."

I looked down guiltily. "I died five years ago," I admitted, "but after finding out that my mother was still stuck in transaction, I haven't really been social until… well, the last few days, really." I was about to apologize for not looking for her when I was interrupted by a loud, low groan.

"Is that the start of the next song?" Agamya asked in a joking tone. But the groan didn't stop— it got louder.

"Do you think something happened to the DJ?" I asked with concern. Suddenly, a panic-stricken voice announced over the noise,

"Everyone please stay calm, but I'm going to have to ask you all to stay where you are."

Agamya and I looked at each other. Her eyes widened.

"I guess that answers that," she whispered. The DJ continued in short, abrupt sentences. I couldn't see where he was, but someone was clearly relaying information to him.

"There's a… situation… on the border of Sectors C and D— wait, I wasn't supposed to—? Okay, folks, please don't panic, but remain _in the park—"_

The worried murmurs of the people around us were getting worse. Suddenly, Agamya grabbed my wrist and looked me in the eye.

"We have to find my friends," she whispered fearfully. I nodded and we started making our way through the swarm of people, most of whom were also running to reunite with their families around the huge park.

"Sanjay?"

I spun around as I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Garmadon!" I said with relief, but his face was chiseled with grave concern.

"We have to go to the border of Sectors C and D."

I blinked, taken aback. "What? Did you not hear the announcement?" Agamya nodded in support.

"Dr. Julien," he said in a grave voice, _"Morro and Owen."_

My eyes widened as I realized what he was saying.

"They aren't in the park… but if they were within earshot of the announcement…"

If there was one thing I'd learned about Morro in my few days of living with him, it was that he tended to do the exact opposite of whatever he was told.

"Um, who are Morro and Owen?" Agamya asked, tilting her head.

"There's no time to explain," I said quickly, looking to Garmadon and then back at her with concern. "But I _promise_ I'll explain when we come back. You go find your friends."

She hesitated, then shook her head. "No. Manda will kill me if I don't go with you, and Tiana will kill _you_ if she learns you ran off."

That was pretty hard to argue with, so I nodded meekly and the three of us started heading towards the edge of the park as fast as we could without looking suspicious. It wasn't like it was my first time rushing into a potentially dangerous situation, but the swarms of the Departed Officials that were beginning to surround the park made me nervous anyhow.

"There," Garmadon whispered quietly, motioning to a break in the D.O.'s defenses. As silently and swiftly as three elderly people could, we managed to sneak out of the park without anyone noticing, and then we were off as fast as we could go to the border between Sectors C and D.

To my surprise and slight dismay, the awful groaning noise from the park did not seem to get any quieter as we left what we'd presumed to be its source. But as we gained ground to the forbidden area, another set of noises became audible, as well: the voices of children.

I was about to call out for Morro and Owen, but Garmadon spotted me and quickly clamped a hand over my mouth, shoving both me and Agamya around a corner as I heard the thundering of boots clamoring down the sidewalk.

"Hurry up, men!"

Departed Officials ran by in a panicked, informal way I'd never seen them run before. Not that I'd interacted with many of them, but in their matching police-style uniforms and small water pistols (which were _much_ more intimidating in the Departed Realm than on Ninjago), they'd always seemed to carry about an air of authority. Now, not so much.

Once the swarm had past, our trio tiptoed into sight of the border, trying to get a look at what all the panic was about.

"Move aside!" the same voice from before called out, and I watched as at least fifty young children screamed and scattered in different directions, holding tightly to small bags of food and other trinkets as they left.

"Static orphans," I realized out loud, and glanced at Garmadon worriedly. We moved a little further back to avoid the D.O., scouting the area for any signs of Morro or—

"Ga'madon!"

All three of us spun around as a small black-haired boy addressed us from behind.

"Owen!" I cried in relief, and ran over to him. But before I reached him I realized something was very wrong. His face had gone pale, and he was trembling in fear. I dropped down to my knees and hugged him reassuringly as Garmadon ran over and started inspecting him to make sure he was all right.

"Who's that?" he sniffled, looking up at Agamya while Garmadon and I fussed over him. He was starting to calm down, thankfully.

"Agamya," she introduced herself gently. Owen glanced fervently back and forth.

"We gotta get outta he'a," he whispered, and pointed to the Departed Officials several paces ahead of us. They were all crowded around something, so they didn't notice us.

"In a moment," I promised him in a low whisper. "Where's Morro?"

Suddenly, the panic-stricken look came back onto the tiny boy's face. "He— he saw him, and said he knew what gonna happen, and—" Painful-looking tears welled up in his jet-black eyes. "He told me n-not to tell—!"

"He told you not to tell something?!" Garmadon asked, enraged. I stole a quick glance at the D.O. to make sure they hadn't heard, but whatever they were looking at had all of their attention.

"Wait a moment," Agamya said, furrowing her brow, "he saw 'him?' Who's him?"

"M-Mo'o," Owen choked, trying to furiously wipe his tears onto his coarse shirt.

"No, who did Morro see?" I explained patiently. Owen simply pointed towards the D.O. Garmadon and I shared a look.

"One of them is looking this way," Agamya hissed, nudging me and motioning towards a Departed Official with her head. She probably didn't know why we were avoiding them, but I appreciated her going along with it without asking questions.

"We have to see who Morro saw. Maybe it'll give us a clue," Garmadon announced gruffly. He looked at Agamya and made some military motion I didn't recognize. "Can you take Owen someplace safe? Not the park, there's too many patrols."

Agamya nodded firmly and took the little boy's hand in her own. I knelt down to address him while Garmadon started casually strolling closer to the scene of interest to try and see past the thick layer of guards.

"Agamya will take care of you," I reassured him. "If all else fails, we'll meet back up with you after the lanterns like we planned, okay?"

He sniffled and nodded, then suddenly leaned forward and whispered something in my ear. My jaw dropped in shock, but I didn't have time to respond before Agamya tugged him away, spurred on by a particular D.O. who seemed to have noticed we weren't supposed to be there.

I started catching up with Garmadon, rubbing my temples from the ache that had started due to the ever-present groaning. "So, what's all the commotio—" I started, but I froze when I saw his face. Whatever the D.O. were staring at in a trance, had him now doing the same. Fearfully, I walked up beside him and lined up my sight with his to catch a glimpse of what had everyone so terrified. And in a moment, I understood.

There, lying still on the ground, was the softly glowing, transparent figure of a boy adorned in a black ninja gi bearing the symbol of Earth.

Cole.

* * *

(A/N: I blame Lydia for my infrequent updates... her self-insert fic keeps distracting me... anyway, hope you're all enjoying the longer chapters and as always, reviews feed my muse! I'd like to give a quick shoutout to FirstFandomFangirl, Random Dragon 2.0, ABCSKW123-IX, StoriesAreMagic, The Jade Raven of Rivendell, Ebony umbreon, and Order of the Aether for reviewing EVERY CHAPTER. Seriously, I didn't realize how many of you guys there were until I typed out all those names?! You guys are AMAZING, thank you all SO much. If I missed anyone, I'm super sorry and let me know so I can shout you out later! I appreciate every single review I get but my regular reviewers in particular make my muse feel confident and happy and loved! :D Thank you all so much!)

(A/N: Quick update: I'll probably edit this chapter before the new one is written... you know when you make a really stupid error on a piece of art? Like, a GLARING error, but you don't realize it 'till after it's posted? I feel like I was terrible at characterizing Agamya's friends, and honestly anxiety is making me feel kind of sick over it. I'm not gonna take the chapter down or anything, but just... don't expect the next one until I've fixed this one. Sorry to be a downer.)


	31. DOTD: The End?

(A/N: The End? As in, the end of the story? Is this the last chapter?

...Nah, it couldn't be.

...Right?)

* * *

A million thoughts raced through my head at once.

Cole? _COLE?!_ What was Cole doing here? He was far, far too young to die, and he was the least likely of all the ninja to be bested in combat besides my son. I rubbed my eyes as if trying to clear my head from a bad Night of Flashback, but it did no good. The sight in front of me remained. And the more I looked, the more confusing and worrisome it became. The boy had a faint green glow about him, and was semi-transparent— both features that ghosts were known to adopt when venturing outside of their own realm, but that wasn't the case. Such marks of death weren't present _in_ the land of the dead.

"What's happened to him?" Garmadon whispered in a hoarse voice, his eyes still fixed on Cole. I shook my head grimly, at a loss for words.

The Master of Earth didn't stir. His body lay perfectly still, not even breathing. His black hair was tousled as if he'd just come from a fight, and his green glow faintly grew and ebbed like a pulse.

"You there!"

A harsh voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I spun around to see a Departed Official standing right behind me with a suspicious look in his eye.

"What are you doing here? You aren't authorized personnel!"

"Please," Garmadon said as I stammered for words, "we know him. You have to let us closer."

"Unless you can explain exactly what's going on and how to fix it, I'm afraid that's not possible," the D.O. said in a less than sympathetic tone. "Chief Fantasma!"

A larger, much more intimidating man made his way over to us, glaring at us with such force I almost ducked behind Garmadon on instinct.

"Did you not hear the announcement?" he growled.

"A-announcement?" I asked meekly as the man shifted his gaze back and forth.

"Chief Fantasma, was it?" Garmadon asked, much quicker on the uptake than I was. "A pleasure to meet you. As I was trying to explain to your subordinate—"

"Leave and go back to the park," the burly man commanded. Then, narrowing his eyes, he added, "Scratch that, I don't trust you. Billy, escort these two to the park!"

"Billy," the smaller D.O., gave Garmadon a slight shove (which was completely unjustified). When he didn't move, he suddenly pulled out his water gun and aimed it at us both with a face that chilled me to the bone.

"Get going," he directed, "and don't try anything funny."

Garmadon looked like he wanted to have a few words with the man, and I didn't blame him, but we obeyed orders reluctantly as Billy walked behind us, pistol in hand. I'd be lying if I said I didn't look for an opportunity to run for it, but no such opportunity came, at least not one that didn't come with the risk of Garmadon or I getting shot— and that was an experience I'd prefer to avoid.

"Now don't cause any more trouble," our escort directed as he forced us through a line of his fellow D.O. surrounding the park, all of whom were looking on with surprise and curiosity. I nodded and Garmadon grunted, and then we were left on our own inside an impenetrable ring of guards.

"I suppose we'd better find Agamya and Owen if we're stuck here," Garmadon sighed with a frustrated scowl. Now that Billy was gone, he was definitely the most threatening person in the vicinity. I nodded wordlessly and followed close behind as we weaved in and out of large groups of people, all huddled together nervously, making our way back to the Central Willow.

Luckily, I was able to spot Agamya and make eye contact with her from a distance, waving her over. She managed to swim through the crowds like a fish through water, foregoing manners and the concept of "personal space" in favor of getting to us faster. Owen clung to her hand, doing a remarkable job of keeping up with her swift movements considering his much shorter stature. I numbly wondered how Agamya pulled off such fast movements without hurting anything.

"Did you see what all the fuss was about?" she asked worriedly as she slipped past the last group of people separating us. Garmadon nodded, but looked thoroughly frustrated.

"Yes, we saw— but we don't understand, and it sure doesn't seem like those police guys do, either."

Owen looked up at me with fear in his eyes and opened his mouth to ask a question, but before he could Agamya replied impatiently,

"Well, what is it?"

"Cole," Garmadon said gravely. "He's here. In the Departed Realm. As a _ghost."_

"We're all ghosts," she pointed out.

"I mean, he _looks_ like a ghost. He's glowing and transparent, and he's not moving at all. And— besides that, it's _Cole!"_

"Who's Cole?" Agamya asked blankly.

Garmadon blinked. "Please tell me you're joking. Cole, the black ninja, the Master of Earth, one of the current GUARDIANS of Ninjago?"

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "I suppose I didn't really pay attention to anything going on outside my town when I was alive. I know there's a team of elemental masters who fight evil, but I don't know how they work or who they are."

Garmadon shook his head in disdain as I suddenly noticed something.

"Where are your friends?" I asked. "Did you find them?"

"Yes… trying to sneak out," Agamya sighed. "They're currently being watched by too many Departed Officials for my comfort. They told me to wait for you and deliver anything you might've learned."

"Well, it looks like we're going to have to wait a while longer to understand anything we've seen," I sighed. "Have you learned anything further?"

"Oh— yes, I've heard some rumors, at least. Let's find someplace to sit and talk."

We did so, adjusting ourselves on the grass before continuing on. I had to lean on one of the poles holding up a DOTD banner, while Garmadon, Agamya, and Owen all seemed perfectly content to sit on the ground. At least Owen had the excuse of being young, but the other two slightly irritated me.

"So what were these rumors you mentioned?" Garmadon asked, frowning.

"I've heard several groups whispering about the Departed Lanterns," Agamya replied. "They say… that they've gotten stuck in transaction."

My eyes widened. " _Lanterns_ getting stuck in transaction? That's definitely never happened in the five years _I've_ been here. I thought that only happened to souls that were unconscious at their time of departing the first world."

"So did I," Agamya said with a grave face. Garmadon frowned.

"Um, what is 'getting stuck in—'"

"Docto' Jul'en!" Owen suddenly cried, tugging at my sleeve. I hadn't noticed him trying to get my attention. He looked up at me with a fear that chilled my bones. "Did you… did you go the'e?"

My face fell. "I'm sorry," I said quietly. "There wasn't a chance to get away."

"Go where?" Garmadon asked gruffly. I looked at Owen and he shifted guiltily, averting his gaze. I sighed.

"Owen told me just before he left that Morro told him about tonight… some vague stuff about 'something big going down.'"

Garmadon's eyes narrowed and I suddenly realized why Owen had wanted to keep what he told me a secret.

"And then?" Garmadon prompted, a dangerous growl in his voice. Agamya looked at me with concern, but didn't say anything. I swallowed hard.

"He apparently said he was going to sneak into—"

All of the sudden, with cartoonishly perfect timing, the horrible, ongoing groaning (which had become white noise) went silent as a blaring noise like nails on a chalkboard rang through the sky. A small child somewhere in the crowd gasped and pointed upward, and everyone in the park turned slowly as the source of the sound was revealed. Looming at the far, far end of the Departed Realm, a massive… _tear_ was starting to appear in the sky. Several screams rang out from the crowd.

"… the Cursed Sector."

Agamya's eyes widened in horror. She somehow seemed to know what she was looking at— and apparently, knowing that it was in the Cursed Sector made it worse. "Oh, no."

"What is it?" I whispered, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"It's an incredibly complicated separation of the bonding molecules that hold together the different fabrics of the Realms… but that wouldn't be possible without some sort of enchanted blade being used, and the only place I can think of where a that sort of thing could potentially exist without serious natural repercussions is Ninjago."

"In layman's terms, please," Garmadon said, his face wrought with both fury and concern. "Where, what, how, and why is that thing?"

"In the Cursed Sector, a rift between realms, created by a magic sharp thingy cutting through space, and I have no idea," Agamya replied without hesitation.

"And Morro knew about this?!" Garmadon exclaimed, leaping to his feet.

"Now, we can't jump to conclusions—" I started trying to say, but he cut me off.

"Can't jump to conclusions that Morro, a former criminal who was imprisoned in the Cursed Realm for _years_ and has already cheated death once, who just so happens to know about a trans-Realm rift opening up, and who _leaves_ the ceremonies on Day of the Departed, isn't trying to get out of here?!" Enraged, he pointed at the sky. "Look up there and tell me I can't jump to conclusions!"

To my horror, it was undeniable that a small mass of figures was starting to be pulled into the sky and sucked through the rift, chains dissolving as they hit the barrier. The horrible screeching noise faded out, but the screams of the park-goers rang through the air as the worst criminals in the Departed Realm jumped out the window of their not-so-metaphorical prison.

"Please," I pleaded, afraid of Garmadon's temper but more afraid of the thought that he might be right, "we don't know what's going on, we have to trust him—"

"TRUST him?! He tried to kill my SON! The only reason I gave him a chance was because _he_ broke me out of the Cursed Sector, which, by the way, I was only in because of him in the first place! And now the reason he helped me is exceedingly clear!" His brown eyes looked as if they were turning red from anger, and he spat on the ground. "I should've known."

It barely registered that Agamya was looking at me with tremendous concern as I felt a hot sting in my eyes. Owen tugged at my sleeve, trembling.

"Mo'o wouldn'a to'd me if he didn't twust us! We have'ta twust him! …wight?" He looked up at me, his black eyes dilated and starting to tear up.

"I don't…" My words faded out as I lowered my head. "I don't know…"

I knew what Garmadon was thinking. His reasoning was perfectly understandable. But Morro wouldn't really be trying to escape, would he? He had no reason to anymore. The Cursed Realm was gone, and he wasn't even stuck in the Cursed Sector. He wasn't shackled by chains nor desire for revenge… right? And had he really tried to _kill_ Lloyd? Any anger I'd had towards Garmadon's reluctance to accept Morro dissolved in an instant; I'd feel the same way about anyone who tried to harm a hair on Zane's head. But even if his anger was understandable, Morro had changed… Garmadon told me he was only redeemed moments before his death, but he was still redeemed in the end… he'd changed, I'd _seen_ him changed…

But… what if it was all an act? I tried to reprimand myself, to banish the thought from my head, but it wouldn't go away. I wasn't the most perceptive person on the planet— Agamya was dead proof of that— but I didn't think of myself as the type who would easily be tricked. No, I _couldn't_ lose faith in Morro; if I did, I was a disgrace to the forgiveness _I'd_ been given. But then why would he run off to the Cursed Sector? A glimmer of hope suddenly suggested that maybe he'd run off to prevent this whole terrible rift, maybe he was trying to close it—

"It's closing," I heard a tense whisper next to me. Agamya was looking at the sky, but she was talking to me. Her hand was closed in a fist over her heart, in a way that seemed familiar somehow, and her wrinkles were more apparent as her eyebrows creased with concern.

And she was right. All the souls had already passed through, and the rift almost looked like it was being zipped up from the bottom, the sky around it returning to normal. For a moment I wondered if it was Morro's doing.

Then, a solitary green and black figure suddenly shot up into the sky, a huge, visible blast of wind propelling it upward. It slipped through the rift just before it vanished completely.

Garmadon turned around slowly, rage burning in his eyes. "He knew this was coming," he growled angrily. But behind the anger, there was an audible voice crack of sadness and betrayal. "He knew this was coming, and he played us all."

I stared at the now-normal sky as both relieved and concerned murmurs spread throughout the park. I didn't want to believe him. I wanted there to be some explanation, some reason why Morro would sneak off like he did. But he left before our eyes— I couldn't deny the facts. Although I'd only known him for less than a week, I thought I'd figured him out. But now…

I didn't know _what_ I believed.

* * *

(A/N: Oh dear... it appears I've left you all on a cliffhanger. :)

Friendly reminder that reviews fuel my muse! Thank you so so much to everyone who's been leaving their thoughts and comments, I seriously can't express how much they mean to me! ^_^ And just for clarification, no, this is not the last chapter, but we're definitely coming up on the end. So if anyone has thoughts they haven't shared about this fic... yea, this is the time to do that. :'D)

(Oh, and next chapter I'm gonna fix/explain the thing that was bothering me in the previous chapter. So. Yea. Hopefully that keeps my anxiety at bay. l"D)


	32. DOTD: The End

"It's been three hours and fifteen minutes."

Agamya had been announcing the time every five minutes, for some unknown reason, but none of us tried to stop her. Every five minutes we hoped would be the last, every five minutes we thought something might change. But we'd been here what felt like an eternity after the rift opened up and so far, all was peaceful in the Departed Realm.

The park was filled with nervous murmurs and faint attempts at light conversation to ease the mood. It wasn't quiet, but it _felt_ like it was quiet. There was the sort of uneasy tension you feel when you walk into a hospital room, and everyone around you is waiting on either the best or the worst news of their life. A hospital was actually the perfect analogy for what was going on, because the doctors— the D.O.— weren't telling us anything. We didn't know what to make of the rift that had so suddenly appeared and then vanished. It was clear it had been targeted in the Cursed Sector on purpose— it was just too specific a location— but who or what had opened the thing was completely unknown. Worse yet, the villains who were locked up there were now probably all roaming Ninjago, looking for revenge. And that struck a chord with the majority of the ghosts surrounding us. We didn't live in Ninjago anymore, but our hearts were there. Our _families_ were there.

Then there was Cole. One of Agamya's friends— Manda, if I remembered correctly— had returned from a failed escape attempt with the news that she'd overheard one of the D.O. saying Cole's molecular structure was only half the density it should've been, and that he still hadn't stirred at all. The most sense I could make out of the situation was that Cole was really only _half_ here, which would explain his ghostly appearance and the fact that he didn't seem to be even slightly aware that he was lying in the middle of the Departed Realm. But how or why he could've ended up in such a state was nearly as worrisome as the initial thought that he was dead.

The air was heavy. The dragged-out tension of the whole situation was almost enough to make me feel sick. Families and groups of friends huddled together and exchanged meaningless, worried whispers, trying to make heads or tails of the whole situation. Some kept looking at the sky as if they feared the rift might reappear at any moment. At one point I spotted a group of small children whizzing by with fearful faces, and wondered if some of the static orphans had either snuck into or been _forced_ into the park. I didn't point them out to Owen, for fear or worrying him even more than he was. The poor fellow looked absolutely terrified, and kept reaching behind his thick glasses to wipe away tears. Normally in such a situation I would have tried to distract him, but all my mind could think about when it tried to change the subject was Morro. I still didn't know what I thought about his running off— what I thought about _him—_ and frankly, I didn't want to. I just wanted to warp back in time to what was only hours ago, when we were all happy and laughing and… well, it was startling to think about it, but when we were all a family.

"Owen, do you like science?"

I turned abruptly— that was not my question. Agamya sat criss-crossed on the grass, and had tapped Owen to get his attention. He sniffled, wiping his eyes, and looked at her almost as bewildered as I did.

"U-um… yea?" he replied warily.

She smiled a little— a half-smile, the kind that acknowledges that something is wrong— and continued. "Do you know the science behind how infants are aged up in the Departed Realm?"

He blinked, still trying to take in the situation. "Ummm… I know's we gots to eat some nasty tea leaves. That's all."

"Do you want to know how they work?" she asked, her tone still casual and kind. Owen's eyes grew wide and he nodded. As if having the entire speech committed to memory, Agamya then launched into a long scientific explanation of how Tomorrow's Tea worked— a subject I already knew well, but which seemed oddly specific for Agamya to know. As for why she was explaining it to Owen…

 _She's distracting him,_ I realized with a start. S _he's doing what I can't._ I marveled at how calm she was staying. From what I could recall, that really hadn't ever been one of her strong suits in life, but… well, people changed, I supposed. I was so intrigued by the soothing tone of voice Agamya was using and the way Owen was slowly relaxing around her that I actually missed part (most) of their conversation.

"…So then that same chemical that works alongside the chlorophyll stimulates the brain into releasing more somatotropin, which is why it's so important to take the proper dosage of tea, regardless of what form you take it in."

Owen looked up at her with wide eyes, apparently temporarily distracted from his worries. I wasn't sure how much of what she'd just said actually made sense to him, but he seemed enthralled nonetheless.

"An' that's how I got big?"

Agamya smiled and nodded. "Mhm. Would you like to hear a secret?"

Owen nodded vigorously. At first I thought she was just going to continue talking about scientific procedures I already knew, but what she said next actually caught my attention.

"They're working on a way to reverse the process."

My head jolted up. "Wait, are you toying with him?" I asked, before realizing that was a very poor choice of question regardless of what the answer was.

"Of course not. The people that head the D.O.— the _really_ big guys—" she winked at Owen— "are trying to create a chemical that will basically work in the reverse as Tomorrow's Tea, which will subsequently make an already-older body _younger."_

I whistled as I took that in. My eyes quickly darted to Garmadon to see if he was listening, but he was still a few paces off, staring up into the sky.

"Well… ahem… that's quite the feat they're trying to pull off. I'll be quite pleased if they manage to actually achieve a youth serum, but I highly doubt they'll get anywhere close to what people have been trying to create for thousands of years," I pointed out.

"Yes, well, they're not quite there yet. There are a lot of bumps," Agamya admitted. "The closest they've come so far is creating a chemical compound that slows down and even reverses the aging process of the _brain,_ but the whole idea is to reverse the body while keeping the brain untouched, so it's not really helpful. Right now they're just gathering data about what it does."

"Hm. That sounds rather interesting, actually. It would be entertaining to see, at least," I said. Agamya smiled slightly, as if she'd expected, or perhaps hoped for, that answer.

"Believe it or not, you already have."

I raised my eyebrows, and Owen did the same.

"What she ta'king about?" he whispered to me (as if I knew the answer.)

"I mean," she said, taking the question, "that those scarves you saw my friends wearing are very special scarves. They're embedded with the chemical compound I just talked about, so all of their cognitive functions have been reversed into roughly the state of very young adults."

"So THAT'S why they were all acting like high school students at a party!" I exclaimed, startling a group nearby with the sudden loud voice. Then I added, "Wait, how come your friends are the ones this serum is being tested on? Surely the scientists working at such high levels have preferred test subjects."

Agamya smiled. "Well, yes. They _are_ the preferred test subjects. They liked the idea of feeling young again, even if it wasn't physically, so I convinced the other scientists—"

"Other scientists? Wait, are you saying _you're_ working on this project?!"

Agamya grinned, Owen gasped, and for a moment it seemed as if the mood might lighten up again. Then Garmadon turned around, his face pale with shock.

"Um, Sanjay?"

We all turned to look as he pointed towards the sky. A tiny version of the previously huge rift suddenly opened noiselessly in the sky, letting through a single figure before closing back up. But there was no mistaking who it was, even from across the Realm.

My eyes widened and the whole group seemed to hold its breath, just before Garmadon suddenly broke out in a sprint towards the edge of the park.

"G-Garmadon, wait!" I cried, struggling to my feet and joining Agamya and Owen in running after him. Several D.O. members shouted at once, causing a stir of commotion behind us as people realized we were (apparently) trying to break out.

"HEY! STAY WITHIN THE PARK!" a harsh D.O. yelled over his co-workers, but as he ran up to Garmadon the old sensei leaped over him with a grace that was _totally unfair_ for someone his age and kept running.

"You three! Stop!" another cried as Agamya, Owen, and I fumbled after him, but in the midst of the confusion and mix of voices we were able to lose track of him by darting around a group of younger, less-experienced looking officials. We actually broke the line of uniform-clad ghosts and I almost had a heart attack as a jet of water suddenly shot past us, but it was quickly followed by what sounded like an angry reprimand, so we kept running. We were out of the park now, and running as fast as we could through the Departed Realm. I hadn't run in _years,_ and as I possessed neither Owen's youth nor Agamya's freakishly graceful and flexible nature (I was starting to have suspicions concerning her supposedly unfinished work on the anti-aging serum), every muscle in my body was screaming out in pain. But who knew if the D.O. were following us, so we ran on, feet pounding on pavement and then grass and then gravel, houses whizzing by us as we thrust ourselves forward. Past a row of houses, then another, through a small shopping area, then back to houses again. We still had a long way to run. The Cursed Sector was all the way on the far edge of the Departed Realm, where the worst criminals were held in reenforced chains of vengestone and surrounded by pools of—

"How are we going to cross the water when we get there?" I suddenly cried to Garmadon, who was several paces in front of the rest of us. My heart was _pounding,_ begging me to slow down, but I denied it.

"We won't have to," Garmadon called back without turning his head. I was about to question what he meant by that, but as we turned a corner I didn't have to anymore. A boy was turning onto the other end of the street, zooming effortlessly through the air with a constant output of wind like a jet stream propelling him forward. He was as startled to see us as I was to see him, and sloppily stopped his currents of air, tumbling to the ground and almost tripping over his own feet. Both oncoming parties failed to slow down in time,and he crashed into Garmadon, who quickly grabbed him by the shoulders and stabilized him out forcefully, looking him in the eye with a glare that probably would have killed the teen if he weren't already dead.

"WHERE. DID. YOU. GO?!" he yelled, not letting go of Morro's shoulders. Morro blinked, as if surprised by the reaction.

Then he turned his head and the corners of his mouth turned upward in a confused but cocky smirk.

Relief flooded over me before he even spoke a word. I knew that look. It was the look he wore whenever he won a game, or made a joke, or successfully got on Garmadon's nerves. It wasn't a cruel smile: although admittedly it looked suspicious to those who didn't know him, it was nothing but a playful grin. Wherever Morro had gone and whatever he had done, there was an explanation.

"Uhh… Ninjago?" he replied, reaching up and removing Garmadon's hands from his shoulders. Garmadon was so fixated on his gaze that he didn't even seem to notice.

"Doing _what?!"_ he exclaimed.

Morro's grin widened, flashing his teeth. "Saving your son. And Cole. And all the other ninja. And sort of the whole world by extension."

"Cole?" I asked, but before Morro could respond he was suddenly tackled by a tiny streak of black.

"M-M-Mo'o!" Owen sobbed, clutching his legs and burying his face in them. Morro blinked, startled, but then smiled and kneeled down, pulling the child into a hug.

"Hey, Owen," he said in a casual voice. "Sorry if I took longer than expected. I told you I had to go to the Cursed Sector, didn't I?"

"Y-yes, b-but—!" he exclaimed. Garmadon looked down at the two with an expression betraying the fact that he had no idea what to make of the situation.

I walked over to the awkward group reunion, resisting the urge to turn it into a group hug (although I would've loved to see Garmadon's expression if I dragged him into one, I didn't have quite that level of confidence), and coughed to get their attention.

"Well then," I said, trying to make it sound as though I hadn't just spent over three hours doing nothing but worrying about Morro, "it seems you have quite a bit of explaining to do."

"I ain't gotta explain nothin'," he said with a massive grin, purposefully throwing away his grammar. "I'm not a criminal anymore, so now it's the _other_ criminals who gotta explain."

"Othe' c'iminals?" Owen asked, wiping his eyes behind his glasses.

"Yeah. They'll be along in a minute," Morro said, sounding extremely proud of himself. "The D.O. were smart enough to go over to the Cursed Sector, right? Because they're about to have their hands full with angry ghosts falling from the sky."

"You mean… all the other criminals will be returning? But how? Why are they not back yet?" Garmadon asked. Morro shrugged.

"Well, they didn't _want_ to die, so they're still struggling against transmission. I don't know all the science-y stuff like doc here, but I do know they can't hold out forever; sooner or later their spirits will be back where—"

"Oh, you're all such idiots!"

Garmadon, Morro, Owen, and I all spun around in unison, surprised at Agamya's outburst. If she _wasn't_ experimenting on herself, her friends had definitely rubbed off on her.

"Uhh…" was all I could manage to say, before she huffed and crossed her arms, creating an almost comical look against her old appearance.

 _"You_ three," she said pointedly, "spend several consecutive hours worrying over the state of someone who's _obviously_ like family to you, and then when he returns you go right to asking him about what happened? Honestly!" She threw her hands up in the air. "At least the kid had a good sense enough to give him a hug! _You_ two are a mess."

Garmadon and I blinked, unsure of how to respond. He'd never been chastised by Agamya before and it had been so long for me that I'd forgotten what it felt like.

"You're hopeless," she sighed as she walked over, and then promptly pushed Garmadon and I against Morro, who had to stand up to catch us in a hug. Neither of us knew what to say, but thankfully, Morro broke the silence.

"Yeah, she's right, guys," he said teasingly, "you should be thanking me for saving Ninjago right now. And maybe praising my awesomeness." He squeezed us both and then pulled back to ruffle Owen's hair since he couldn't reach the height of the hug standing up.

I opened my mouth to reply to that, but surprisingly, Garmadon beat me to it.

"…you're right. Thank you," he said. Morro stumbled back in alarm and almost tripped.

"I don't know what happened on the other side of that rift," the sensei continued with a sigh, "but if the others aren't back yet, it means they're fighting to stay alive, or at least stay in Ninjago. But _you_ … aren't."

Morro smiled in a way that— if I didn't know him— I would describe as shy. "Well, yeah. I had people to come back to." He glanced at me and I felt a flutter of pride in my gut.

"I'm… glad to hear that. But seriously," Garmadon said, starting to regain composure, "you _do_ have some explaining to do."

"You bet you do."

I blinked. The voice was female, and it wasn't Agamya's. Slowly, I turned around to see a line of Departed Officials huffing and clumsily falling into formation as they caught their breath. I wondered how the police force could possibly be in as bad of shape as us— a couple of old folks and a child— but then I remembered that they scarcely got any exercise, as the Departed Realm was normally very peaceful.

"You there." The lead official, an intimidating woman with a frightening stare almost equal to Garmadon's, pointed at Morro. "You're coming back to headquarters with us. You have a _lot_ of explaining to do."

Morro nodded at me, seeing my concerned expression. In a joking tone, he replied, "Of course. I'll be happy to tell you all about my fantastical adventures in the land of—"

"You won't be talking to me," the woman snapped. "You can tell your 'fantastical adventures' to the _head of the Departed Realm."_

Morro froze. His grin slowly faded.

"Yeah, that's right," the woman sneered, "and I'm sure he'll be very interested to hear your reasons for escaping into Ninjago… _again."_

I glanced at the rest of our group, fear once again welling up in my chest. Owen was nervously clinging to Morro's legs, and Garmadon was glaring at the Departed Official as much as she was glaring at Morro. Agamya gave me a worried sideways glance, as if to ask me exactly what was happening.

When we didn't move for several seconds, a few Departed Officials reached for their holsters. We tensed, and Morro quickly put his hands up.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming," he said. "But they come with me." He looked me in the eye and nodded.

"Fine. They can wait for you outside headquarters," the lead woman replied, and snapped her fingers. Morro hesitantly followed her as the other D.O. put their hands back down to their sides, starting to surround us like a pack of wolves to ensure that we didn't run off on our way to headquarters. Not that we had much reason to. Owen looked like he might want to flee, but thankfully none of the D.O. were the same ones from before, at least not that I could see— perhaps they mistook him for a relative of Morro's instead of a runaway static orphan. It suddenly occurred to me that Owen very well _could've_ been related to Morro, but I didn't have much time to consider the thought. The lead official stopped on a dime, almost causing Morro to bump into her. She spun around cooly and said, "Oh yes, and I've forgotten one thing. There _is_ some good news."

I held my breath with a mix of confusion and hope. All of DOTD— all of this week, really— had been a rollercoaster of emotions that my routine-oriented self was not used to. I didn't know what I should expect.

"Homes numbered 201 through 350 have been completed in Sector D, and the work schedules for newcomers as of two months ago or later have been completed. Needless to say, both of these conditions apply to you." She motioned to Morro and Garmadon. "After this meeting, you'll be given your official papers for your schedules and escorted to your new residences." Then she swiftly turned back around and raised her right arm in some kind of salute. The other D.O. responded by starting to march again, forcing us along with them. They didn't seem perturbed by this news, but my head started to reel as I realized the implications of what the woman in charge had just said.

After tonight, Morro and Garmadon were leaving.

* * *

(A/N: "The End" of DOTD… but not quite the end of SDLPC! Next chapter WILL be the REAL last one [SORRY NOT SORRY FOR ALL THE CLIFFHANGERS XD]! I'm also going to do a short FAQ/thank you as a separate chapter, so if you have any questions about the series, the meta, my OCs, choices in plot, or anything else, leave them in your review and I'll answer them there! I've seriously enjoyed working on this fic, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it. Again, thank you SO much for your feedback and reviews! You guys are INCREDIBLE!)

(P.S. I'm rereading every single review I've ever gotten as well as my author's notes over the chapters [as you do], and way back in chapter 3 I mentioned that I didn't know how long the story was going to continue— "Maybe one chapter. Maybe 20." And… IT'S GONNA BE 33 CHAPTERS LONG. THE ANSWER WAS 30. 30 CHAPTERS. I'M SO SHOOK)


	33. Aftermath

(A/N: :))

* * *

Benches are surprisingly uncomfortable to sit on, considering they're literally built for sitting.

This was about the only normal thought cycling through my mind as I sat tensed on the layers of cold metal beams outside the Departed Official Headquarters. The sun was long gone, and I had no way of knowing what time it was. For once, there was no clock in sight to tell me how long I had to wait before seeing my… before seeing _them_ again.

I sat alone; Agamya had left to find her friends and let them know what was happening and where she'd be, and she'd taken Owen with her, promising to help him find the other static orphans if she could. At first I thought it was odd that he was so willing to be thrown from adult to adult (although whether or not Morro counted as an adult was up for debate), but then I remembered that he hadn't been raised by any parents, and my heart grew heavy. I hoped Morro kept his word and took care of him. I hoped Morro would be _able_ to take care of him. What would his work schedule be like? I shuddered, thinking of all the crimes he'd committed. Even without all the rift-crossing that had just gone down (which I knew wasn't of malicious intent, but the D.O. did not), he certainly hadn't been an angel during his lifetime. Or even after that.

And what about Garmadon? Surely the D.O. wouldn't blame him for all the evil he'd done while under the influence of the Great Devourer's venom; he would never have caused anyone harm if it were up to him. He always seemed to think he could've fought it more, but… he _did_ try to fight it. They would see that, wouldn't they?

How long had it even been since Garmadon and Morro had shown up at my door? I tried to recount the days, but I swore my total must be wrong. It felt like I'd been living with them for a lifetime— it couldn't have been only a week. All my memories seemed to blur together in one big haze of events. I'd never forget the first time they showed up out of the blue; the way Morro strolled in like an old friend and the way Garmadon would keep whacking him with a rolled-up piece of paper. Then there was the Great Kite Duel, which seemed eons ago, like some great war in history book. That was when my Nights of Flashback started, which were of course more than just flashbacks now. We went grocery shopping and Garmadon started teaching me how to cook, only for Morro to decide that ice cream counted as a meal, which was a good decision in my book. In fact, the memories of us eating together were probably my favorites— just under playing Escape from Dark Island, that is. It hurt an unreasonable amount to think that I might never play that game again.

The idea crossed my mind— not for the first time since I sat down on the bench— to invite Garmadon and Morro to stay. It felt to me as if the moment they came through my door, we'd entered some strange alternate reality that was entirely separate from our lives on Ninjago and my life in the afterlife up until that point. It was almost unbearable to imagine that it had been a limited timespan, a self-contained unit of life that would pass forever, like childhood.

But the reality was, we _did_ have lives back in Ninjago— all of us— and I couldn't ignore the fact that we all had different families we would eventually regroup with, as well. Garmadon had a wife and brother and child, and Morro had pledged to take care of Owen… and it seemed to me that he might end up finding his own family in the rest of the Static Orphans, as well. As for Owen himself… as much as I wanted to believe I could take both him and Morro in, the further down the line I thought about the situation, the more hopeless it seemed. Morro would almost definitely have a long work schedule— I couldn't pretend he wouldn't— which would leave me to take care of Owen. And while I'd grown fond of the child in the little amount of time I'd known him, he was different from Zane. This wasn't an android who I could program self-defense skills into or shut down for the night when he got sleepy; this was a human child who had been abandoned by his parents and had lived who-knows-how-long as a runaway orphan on the streets of the Departed Realm. I wanted with all my heart to be able to heal that pain, but the simple truth was that I wasn't enough for that. I didn't know what it was like to grow up with no guidance whatsoever, and I certainly didn't know what it was like to be homeless and poor. I didn't like the thought of Morro raising Owen on his own, but at least he was a figure Owen could relate to. That was something I couldn't fulfill.

I was startled out of my thoughts by the door next to me swinging open. Garmadon stepped out, a mix of emotions on his face. His brow was furrowed, but not quite in anger, and he had a tight-lipped smile. I smiled feebly back and took a shaky breath as he sat down next to me, not even wincing from the cold of the bench. We were both silent for a moment.

"A year out of every five," he suddenly blurted out. I blinked.

"Pardon?"

"A year out of every five," he repeated. "That's my work shift. Same as yours."

"O-oh!" I exclaimed. "But, wait, when did I tell you my…?"

"First day we met," Garmadon replied, in a tone implying he was surprised I'd forget. "Anyway…" He coughed. "Back in there, I was thinking, ever since the D.O. told me you get to choose which years you work within your shift… maybe we could end up working together sometime?"

I blinked. "That— yes, of course! But, um, we'd have to be working the same job, of course…"

"I know," Garmadon said hurriedly. "It was just a thought. That if we were both looking for a year where we did the same type of work, we could decide to overlap it."

I blinked more quickly, definitely not trying to keep tears out of my eyes. "Yes, that… that would be nice."

The door swung open again, providing a brief but welcome break in the awkward tension. Then Morro walked out and the tension hardened like a clay brick in the sunlight. He was silent, and his pale green eyes darted around nervously. Or maybe it was my own nervousness that I was projecting onto him; I couldn't quite tell.

"So?" Garmadon asked, his voice as gruff as always. "How'd it go?"

Morro hesitated, then for some reason looked directly at me. "Well… my schedule is fifteen work years for every year off… but they gave me a special job?"

Garmadon and I exchanged a look. _You ask him,_ I ordered with my eyes.

"What, exactly, does that mean?" he asked Morro.

"Well… it's kind of a long story. They sent me up to talk to the head of the D.O.— no surprise there, it takes the best of the best to hold _me_ down— and we got talking, well, mostly it was yelling at first, but after a while he backed down. Probably impressed with my valiance and heroic determination." He flipped his hair, and it was honestly somewhat of a relief to see him acting like his old self again. "Anyway… we ended up having a conversation about the status of static orphans here, especially the ones who are too young to work. I said it wasn't fair that they never got a chance to learn the skills to work in the first place, and somehow that ended up turning into a proposal for a school for departed kids."

I wasn't sure when my mouth started dropping, but by this point my jaw had practically hit the floor. Garmadon was more stoic, but even he couldn't contain his surprise.

"He talked with some of his subordinates and they want to test the idea on a smaller group of kids first," Morro continued, "and I guess the head D.O.— his name is Mr. Rayiys, by the way, although some of his workers call him the H.D.O.— wants me to be the teacher for the first test group? Since it was my idea and all. And I'm technically a static orphan myself."

"Wait— you're going to be a teacher?!" Garmadon exclaimed. "But you hardly even have any education yourself!"

"No offense," I added for him quickly.

Morro seemed unfazed. "Yeah, that's why they're having me travel the Realm as a student myself first. I'll be under the tutorship of some of the smartest people here to learn math and science and stuff." He wrinkled his nose. "I don't like the thought of having someone else be the boss of me, but at least when it's done I'll get to be the boss of a bunch of _cool_ kids."

"Very shrewd thinking," Garmadon commented, in a voice that wasn't completely sarcastic.

"Oh, and one more thing," Morro added in a too-casual voice. I raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

"They let me pick my science teacher. Well, I actually sorta put in a request." He started cleaning his nails in an uninterested fashion. "In other words… I'm going to be coming by on Thursdays to learn nerd stuff from you, so you might want to start prepping for that. And I fully expect cookies when I come over."

I was speechless for a few moments as I tried to find my voice. Taking off my glasses to wipe my eyes, I finally managed to laugh, "Yes, of course."

"Well, if that's the case," Garmadon stated abruptly, "then I certainly hope there are cookies for _me_ when I come over on Fridays to play Escape From Dark Island… if that's okay."

Hearing Garmadon's voice waver was the straw that broke the camel's back. I felt a hot sting as tears started to prick my eyes, rigidly refusing my attempts to hold them back.

"Yes… yes, of course that's okay," I said, suddenly choked up.

"Hmph," Morro said, "you two know I'm the best player on the team. There's no way you could win without me. Make that two days of the week I'm going to have to come over to the nerd-pad."

"Morro," Garmadon tried to scold, but even he couldn't get his voice to sound angry with a smile so wide.

"Speaking of nerds—" Morro started, but he was cut off from a voice behind me.

"Well, well."

I spun around, almost accidentally crashing into the woman in front of me.

"Looks like all three of you are here; good, I need to—" She paused to raise an eyebrow at me. "Sanjay, are you… _crying?"_

"What? N-no, of course not," I laughed meekly, wiping my eyes again.

"I never thought I'd see the day," Agamya mused. "But we'll talk about that later."

"Did you talk to your friends?" I asked.

"Yes, and they're very annoyed that I keep leaving the group. I'm thinking maybe I should limit the amount of time they're allowed to wear the scarves. But they agreed to let me go when I explained the reason I came back, which is, to be frank, to discuss a very pressing matter that you all haven't told me about."

"And what would that be?" I asked.

"Me!" Owen piped up eagerly.

"Owen!" I exclaimed, startled. "I didn't even notice you there." The small boy was half-hidden behind Agamya's legs, and I'd been too focused on confirming her eye color to look down.

"According to my source of information," Agamya said, rubbing Owen's shoulders affectionately— I'd forgotten how much she liked kids— "Owen is supposed to stay with Morro once he gets settled into his new house."

"Um… yeah," Morro said, the gears in his brain visibly turning. "But, wait, I just got assigned my work schedule, and—"

"You're not going to be free very often," Agamya stated. "At least, that's what I'm guessing, considering how the D.O. reacted to you. So Owen would be left alone a lot, which is less than ideal."

Morro looked down guiltily, having clearly not considered this point. I felt bad, too, but didn't see how to amend the situation. Owen, however, piped up brightly,

"So we came up with anothe' so'ution!"

"The obvious thing to do," Agamya said with a smile, "is to switch off."

I blinked. "Switch off…?"

"Who takes care of Owen," she explained, rolling her eyes. "Say, monthly. You three are obviously the most family he has, aside from the other static orphans, who we'll eventually have to arrange something for— but that's getting off topic. I propose that Owen stays with Morro the first month, Sanjay the next, Garmadon after that, and me last. Then he goes back to Morro."

I blinked. "Wait— what?"

"You and Garmadon have both raised sons," she said casually, "I'm sure you can handle another one. Especially one as well-behaved as Owen." Owen grinned at her.

"Yes— b-but— I—"

"I think Sanjay is trying to ask when _you_ entered the cycle," Garmadon asked, saving me from my lack of words.

"Since me and Owen just came up with this plan," she said with a youthful twinkle in her eye. "He needs a female guardian in his life, as well."

"I think you just want a kid," I laughed, my nerves going away long enough to rib her gently.

"Oh, actually, thank you for bringing that up," she said, taking a step forward. I froze in alarm and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Morro and Garmadon look at each other.

 _"You,"_ Agamya said, poking me in the chest, "owe me for everything that happened back in Ninjago."

"Which is—?" I started feebly.

"Everything," she stated simply. "So you're taking me to dinner Friday night. No complaining."

Behind me, I heard a whistle. I turned around in shock and mild anger from embarrassment. "Morro!"

The biggest, most triumphant, unbelieving smile spread across the ghost teen's face. "For once, that wasn't me." He pointed at Garmadon.

"Garmadon?!"

"Feisty lass, isn't she?" he asked with a non-apologetic smile. Then, right in front of my eyes, he held out his hand and Morro slapped it.

"That's it!" I cried, throwing up my hands. "You are the biggest bunch of children I have ever met."

Garmadon's smile softened. "I suppose we have you to thank for that."

"Well, I hate to cut this reunion short," Morro announced, "but there's actually some boring paperwork I have to do inside. Mr. Rayiys just let me come out to fill you guys in. Since I assume you guys will want to go watch the lanterns, I'll see you on Thursday."

"Wait, I thought the lanterns got stuck in transaction?" I asked.

"You didn't hear?" Morro seemed surprised. "They figured out how to pull them through using some sort of metal contraptions. They'll all be at the Central Willow soon."

"Oh!" Garmadon and I exclaimed in sync. There was a pause as we silently delegated who should speak first.

"In that case, I would like to witness the lanterns, yes," Garmadon said. "Sanjay?"

"Yes, yes, I'll come with you," I said excitedly. "More than that, though, I think I've figured something out! A metal contraption that could be adjusted, not to _cross_ through rifts, but to enter the space between them, and pull back souls that have been stuck…" My tone grew more excited as I spoke. "Yes, that would definitely be possible! I must get back home as soon as the lantern ceremony is over. I have some alterations to make to Tiya before I wake her up."

"You mean, you have to get back to the nerd-pad," Morro said with a grin.

"Ooh, the nerd-pad," Agamya commented. "I like it."

"Don't encourage him," Garmadon warned.

"I like this chick," Morro laughed. I thought 'chick' was an interesting word choice for someone of her age, but ignored it for now. "Agamya, right? Hey, Doc, we could use a fourth for Escape From Dark Island, couldn't we?"

"Oh, I love that game!" Agamya exclaimed. I blinked, startled.

"You've played it?"

"Of course! It was my favorite game! I haven't played since my lifetime, but me and my friends used to get together after really late work shifts and we'd all be sleep deprived and—"

"You two can catch up on Friday," Garmadon interrupted. "Aren't we going to get going to the Central Willow?"

"Oh! Right." I took one last look at the faces around me. "Owen, would you like to come with us?"

"I'll stay with Mo'o," he said with a smile. I caught a glint of surprise and happiness in Morro's eyes.

"Then it's settled. We'll all reconvene on Thursday," Garmadon said. Then he turned around and motioned for Agamya and me to pass him. "Ladies and their gentlemen first." I ribbed him, a little harder this time, but the smile didn't leave my face as we parted ways with the youngest in our group temporarily. I looked forward to seeing what my son had been up to on Ninjago, but for the first time, the trip to the lanterns was just as fulfilling as the destination itself.

"Sanjay, look!"

I shook myself out of my thoughts and followed Agamya's command— then gasped in surprise. Under the black blanket of sky, a thin layer of color was emerging, the first sunbeams of the morning grabbing onto the edge of the world and pulling themselves up, pushing back the darkness. All three of us halted for a moment to watch the sky in awe.

"I had no idea it was so close to morning," I commented quietly.

"Me neither," Garmadon whispered back. "Everything seemed so dark a moment ago."

"Make a wish," Agamya stated absentmindedly. I blinked.

"I thought you only made wishes on sunsets."

"No, sunrises count, too," she said. We fell silent as the sun ascended, pastel traces of blue and pink following underneath it as if a sheet were being pulled back to reveal the colors below.

Agamya and Garmadon made their wishes to themselves (everyone knew you couldn't say them out loud) while I simply took in the scene. After all, it seemed like I spent the majority of my life alone… but now?

I had all the company I could wish for.

And the rest of eternity was only beginning.

* * *

(A/N: YAY IT'S FINISHED! *confetti* Whew, when I started this project out I had NO idea it'd grow to such a scale... but I'll be giving my sappy, long ramble in the "bonus section" per say, which will be a separate chapter [maybe story], so for now, reviews would be appreciated as always. If you have any questions about the characters/plot/making of SDLPC/my writing style/ect., feel free to include them at the end of your review and I'll answer them in the bonus section! I'll probably also include at least a bit of fic in it so that I'm following FFN's rules, so stay tuned for that ;D And before I go, another HUGE thank-you to everyone who's reviewed regularly. You guys have been my primary motivation, and sometimes my sole motivation, for pushing on with this project. Ironically, your words mean more than I can say! );) )


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